


UnProphecy Girl

by Micrindle



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, Holy Water, Hot English Vampire, Magic, Other, Rape, Road Trips, Saving the World, Stuffy English Dudes, Sunlight- AHH, The Watchers Council - Freeform, Time Travel Fix-It, Useless Vampires, Vampires, Wooden Stakes, kill some vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Micrindle/pseuds/Micrindle
Summary: 2004 Buffy Is flung back in time against her will to face old enemies and new.It's time for Buffy to put it right and she is doing it the only she knows how.Her way and there is nothing The Council can do to stop her.





	1. Chapter 1

There it was again.

The familiar burn in her chest, the hot, sharp sting of penetration. . . She remembered it.

Not fondly.

The first time had been a bullet, the second, a sword. Now, it was a spear.

No one remembers being Mostly Killed fondly. Except for maybe Faith. For some reason, she looked back on the fight that nearly killed her -- and subsequent coma -- with a weird sentimentality and romanticism that made Buffy uncomfortable. Faith had taken it as a learning opportunity.

 

Apparently.

 

Buffy recalled some pretty traumatic French lessons, but at least her learning curve hadn’t been quite so steep that it required a gaping gut wound to right itself. Despite that, Faith got her, understood Buffy now on so many levels. . . It was nothing the new Slayers-in-Training could grasp: the loneliness, the deep, yawning chasm that stood between them and destruction, the compulsion to go out and kill things.

As sunset drew close, every mundane and exceptional day, the two of them could feel It wake up. Like a vampire rising at nightfall, It itched under their skin, spoiling for a fight, hungry for violence and the rush of victory, of conquering an enemy, of being really alive.

Yeah, Faith got her. But Buffy didn’t get that. It might just be a Faith thing.

The SITs didn’t feel It: even with all the teamwork and encouragement and quasi-therapy that taught them what they felt was natural and allowed and not wrong -- exactly what Buffy and Faith had lacked in their own training -- the girls didn’t have the same hunger for the fight.

Maybe they would grow into it.

Maybe they’d made it all too easy for them.

Maybe not. None of them seemed to have the fire that kept her and Faith alive. Well. . .

 

Who even brings a spear to a battle anymore anyways? Medieval, much?

 

She fell, knees scraping on the broken asphalt that surrounded L.A. The spear twisted under her. To an outside observer it must have looked like she had impaled herself on her own sword, like the samurai used to.

 

Seppuku, her brain provided helpfully.

 

It didn’t seem like she was going to make it this time.

She had tried to so hard, sacrificed so much. Now she just hoped she was going to the place that all good souls go to rest.

 

Maybe this time I can stay gone.

 

The dragon that had incinerated Spike wheeled about overhead, inspecting the battlefield for survivors, flaming sporadically as it passed. The chorus of screams and the screech of steel on steel was starting to fade as the seconds crawled by.

 

There had been so many emotions that had crossed over his expressive face when they had seen each other for the first time since his immolation in the Hellmouth. It had been so Spike: love, gratitude, sadness, regret, and that last one, fear. Fear, for him, for her. . . For all of them.

Then he was gone.

 

Dragon fire had bathed the street, turning it into a glowing orange inferno. All that had been left was the puddle of melted steel next to where he’d been standing, formerly his axe. They had to wait for hours to investigate the molten street, smelted bitumen bubbled up around scorched and crumbling pavement. The dragon had long disappeared into the gaping wound between their reality and the one the Senior Partners had opened. It had been absent most of the day.

Now the dragon was back, wreaking havoc on everything: buildings, cars, people. Demons on both sides fled in terror: it didn’t seem to be distinguishing friend from foe.

 

Her girls would think of some way to stop it though. They would be fine, and she could be happy again.

 

Finally.

 

Somehow cold and darkness was seeping into her bones, leaching her consciousness. There was a sudden blazing shockwave of heat that rolled over her and then she was blessedly free.


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark, wet, and cold. There was a burning, choking pressure in her chest.

 

Heaven has definitely let itself go since I was here last.

 

Then there were hands pulling on her, and voices echoing around her in the black, familiar but unplaceable. “She’s dead.”

 

Duh.

 

“She’s not dead.”

 

Aren’t I?

 

“She’s not breathing.”

 

I’m not? Comes with the territory, being dead and all, I guess.

 

“She drowned, right?” There was no answer from the other speaker.

 

No. . . Not this time I didn’t. Impaled and flamed to death by a dragon, yes. Drowning may, in fact, be the exact opposite of what happened this time.

 

He continued, “There’s still a chance. We have to do CPR. . . You do it.”

 

They’re bringing me back again?! Again? They all promised! How could the PTB let this happen to me again? Three times wasn’t enough, they want me back for one more round?

. . .wait, ‘you do it’ who?

 

“I have no breath.”

 

He has no what? He’s talking, isn’t he? Who the fuck is he? ‘I have no breath,’ God, what a drama queen.

 

Buffy felt fingers on her nose and chin. Her lips were pried open and something warm and soft pressed against her mouth. Her cheeks and chest expanded with hot air, easing the pressure. Someone was breathing into her. It stopped and the breather pressed rhythmically against her breast bone, then began to breathe again.

 

“Come on, come on.”

 

I don’t think I come back to life just because you’re begging. I’m just not that kind of girl.

 

More air, more chest compressions. “Breathe!”

 

Buffy’s body convulsed without her say-so and she rolled away from the body on top of her to vomit water onto the vaguely familiar stony ground. Her vision started to clear and--

“Xander?!”

“Buffy,” he said, softly, reverently.

“You promised--you all promised not to bring me back again,” she rasped, still coughing up water.

“Again?! Buffy, what are you talking about?”

“How could you! You know how bad it was last--Xander, what’s wrong with your face?”

Xander’s expression went from confused to hurt. “Nothing’s wrong with my face, what’s wrong is you! What’s going on?”

 

Buffy flinched and pushed away. “What’s going on? How did I get here? Where is here? Why. . . why does Xander look like that?” She could feel herself start to hyperventilate.

“Like what? Buffy, please, just--”

The second speaker cut in. “Maybe she has amnesia, you know, like sometimes when someone goes through something traumatic, like dying, for instance, the person forgets to protect themselves from the pain.”

“Unusually perceptive of you, deadboy. Right, so maybe the Buffster here, has lost her memory, but that doesn’t help us now. The Master is up there, freely terrorizing the populous of Sunny D and we have an amnesiac Slayer.”

“The Master?” Buffy broke in, trying to even her breathing. “What do you mean, ‘the Master?’ The Master has been dead since 1997, how can he be terrorizing Sunnydale when Sunnydale is just a big crater?”

Xander looked at her suspiciously. “Buffy,” he said cautiously, “what exactly is wrong with my face?”

“Your eyes, your eyes are--are wrong.”

“How are they wrong?”

“You have both of them.”

Xander went white, then faintly green.

 

“When is this?” she asked, an uncomfortable truth dawning on her.

“June,” answered the Drama Queen. Dramatically.

“Of what year?”

“1997.”

 

“Fuck, so--so--so. . . I have the Master to kill and. . . crush all his bones--”

“Buffy,” the Drama Queen interjected, slowly and pompously, as if talking to a child. “You should know by now that vampires don’t have bones, just ash.” His brown doe eyes were sparkling in the dim light with what looked like tears, “It’s all I am. . . really.”

“Shut up, Angel,” Buffy snapped. “How did I not notice you were such a diva last time?”

“Go Buffy!” Xander grinned.

“The last time?”

 

“Okay, uhm, then. . . then. . . kill Frankenstein’s monster. . . Fight Spike on Back to School night.” She rubbed her forehead.

“SPIKE?” spluttered Angel, “you can’t fight him! You’ll lose!”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Then wait for him to take out Colin.”

“Spike wouldn’t take out the Order! That’s blasphemy! The worst sin in vampire law! In vampire-dom!” He flapped his hands ineffectually, then gave up and finished lamely, “you. . . you know.”

 

“Is that why you didn’t come and help us distract the Master while I tried to kill him?”

Angel spluttered more. Xander looked gleeful.

“You really don’t know Spike very well, do you, Angel?”

“I know he’s a killer. He won’t stop until he--”

Buffy sighed, “Were you always this pompous? Stop pinning your attributes on Spike, you tried to mold him in your image for 20 years and he is still his own vamp. No. Spike will stop the second he gets bored, thinks of a better way or decides he has something else better to do. He hung around for years and never managed to get around to killing me, my family, or my friends.

“Well, except for Ford,” she amended. “But he was literally asking for it. As in all ‘please turn me, Master Spike, I want to be immortal forever’ kind of asking for it. I can handle Spike.”

Angel continued to stammer. Buffy stood up and went on. “I need to stop you,” she pointed at Xander, while hurriedly tying her hair back and heading to the mouth of the tunnel, “from getting attacked by your mummy-date, and. . . Xander, are you wearing two shirts? Can I have one? This,” she gestured to herself, “is not practical at all.”

Xander pulled off his top shirt and handed it to Buffy, who paused to pull it on and tie it at her waist before ripping her dress at the knees to make it more manageable. “A, uh, mummy?”

“Yeah. You better get used to attracting all the nasties too, ‘cause they really love you for some reason. It’s like you have demon nip in you or something. Make your peace with it now, it’s just gonna keep happening.” Gotta keep Anya alive this time. “You might even love one of them.”

Xander stopped gloating and seemed lost in thought for the rest of the journey. They were above ground now, and quickly making their way towards the library.

 

“Sssslllayyyyeeeerrrrr!” screeched a minion, jumping down from an overhanging building. Without breaking stride, Buffy launched a stake in his direction, dusting him and landing the stake in the shoulder of the minion on his heels. The second minion screamed and ran. Apparently loyalty was hard to come by on a Hellmouth.

“I don’t have time for this now, guys.” She sped up again, Xander and Angel trailing behind. “The Master is opening the Hellmouth, and it’s full of nasty things.” A chill ran down the length of her spine. “Turok-Han, for one.”

Angel began to protest again. “Buffy,” he said condescendingly, “they’re fairy tales; they aren’t real, just stories sires tell their childer to keep them under control.”

Buffy snorted. “Like you told Spike about Slayers? How’s that working out for you?”

“Buffy! How can you be so flippant? The Turok-Han are just a myth!”

“So am I! Doesn’t make me any less real, does it?” She fielded Xander’s question before he opened his mouth. “The Turok-Han are the vampires that vampires have nightmares about. There’s millions of them under the Hellmouth. We have to close it yesterday. We don’t have a way to close it properly yet, this time. These things? They’re terrifying. They make the Master look attractive. I still have nightmares about them, and the last one I killed was almost two years ago. I had a hard enough time killing one with the proper weapon -- which I don’t have right now -- let alone trying to kill the millions waiting to push through the Hellmouth.”

 

Angel looked grim despite himself.

 

“I need you two to go directly to the Library, help the gang fight off the vampires trying to get into the Hellmouth. If everything goes as planned, it’ll close in a few minutes. If not, well, we aren’t going to be around long enough to have to worry about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Yes! Come forth, my child. Come into my world.” The Master cackled.

“Do bad guys have, like, an evil guy handbook that everyone gets when they join the evil club or something? Because that wasn’t even a little bit original.”

“You’re dead!”

Buffy sighed, picking at her nails, feigning indifference, “Yes, for the third. . . no, wait, fourth time now, no thanks to you! And you ruined my dress!” she stomped her foot childishly.

The Master’s grotesque face furrowed in confusion, “But I--”

“Killed me, yes, thought we already established that. At this point it’s starting to become Not a Big Deal.”

There was a splintering crash from below them and Buffy used the Master’s moment of inattention to push him through the skylight and onto the enormous ceiling beam that protruded from the library floor. He dusted, leaving behind a surprised skeleton, skewered on the thick beam.

That was anticlimactic.

 

The fighting stopped as the tentacle monster was pulled back into the Hellmouth, minions melting away into the night to lick their wounds -- and most likely grovel to Colin. Out of breath, Giles, Ms. Calendar, and the rest of the Scoobies gathered around the impaled remains of the Master.

 

“Well--” started Giles.

“See, I told you! Stupid vamp, look, skeleton! Believe me now?” Angel, Giles, and Ms. Calendar stared at Buffy, mouths agape.

“She died!” added Xander helpfully.

“Giles, I have some things to tell you and you aren’t going to like them all.” Buffy announced.

Giles looked stunned. “Buffy--you’re, you’re alive! How did--” He paused for a moment, removing his glasses and polishing them with his tie, after being unable to find his handkerchief. He swallowed hard, then smiled fondly at her and finished softly, “I should have known that wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Buffy walked over to Giles and hugged him.

“Buffy!” Giles choked.

Buffy made an ‘ohh’ noise and relaxed her grip. “I’ve missed you, Giles,” she whispered. “Things were never the same after. . . it’s not going to happen again. I need your help stopping everything coming our way.”

“Of course, my dear girl, that’s what I’m here for.”

 

They were both quiet for a moment, then as Buffy pulled away, Giles asked, “What do you mean by ‘again?’”

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as we finish crushing up the Master’s bones.”

“They require crushing?”

“Yes, otherwise Colin will be using all of us as walking blood bags to resurrect old Bat Face.” Buffy grimaced.

“Colin? Bat Face?” came his bewildered reply.

“Bat Face?” echoed Angel. He squinted in a way that made him look both constipated and slow- and also as if trying to remember something.

“C’mon guys, help me get his bones down. Sooner we do this, the sooner we can all. . . do whatever it is that you had planned to start with.” She pointed at Xander, “Find us some hammers.”

“I’m Xan, your Hammer-Man!” Buffy rolled her eyes as he hurried off.

She turned to Willow, “Okay, as much holy water as you can find, please.” Willow nodded vehemently and turned into the office.

Buffy took Ms. Calendar by the arm and said in a low voice, “I need you to make copies of the disinvite spell, with instructions, and hand that, with the herbs to perform it, to everyone once we’re done here. I also need to speak with you in private once the gang is gone.”

“Me?” She looked confused, “Spells? Why me?”

Buffy eyed her seriously, “because you’re the best person for the job and I need the best on this.” Jenny nodded and walked towards the computer lab, her heels clicking sharply. She seemed to swell with delight as she passed through the library doors. Buffy smiled.

 

She turned back towards the stacks. “Angel, this place is going to be bathed in holy water very soon.” Willow burst through the doors of Giles’ office, said bottles in her arms. “Time to go home. Good night, Angel.”

“Buffy?” he asked, in the same heartsick tone that used to make her shiver, but now made her vaguely queasy.

“Good night, Angel.” She repeated firmly. “We’ll talk about all of this in a few days.” She looked at the slowly lightening windows of the library. “It’s almost sun-up; time for all good vampires to be in bed.”

He gave her a hurt look and flounced dramatically out through the stacks without saying goodbye, his long coat whipping behind him.

Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes. God, Spike makes that looks so much cooler. Maybe I should get a coat like that? I’m way cooler than Angel, I could totally make it work.

 

Giles had stripped to his shirtsleeves, and found a hammer, “I, uh, take it from your curt dismissal that you are no longer. . . enamoured towards him?”

Buffy cocked her head, waiting for Angel’s signature to completely fade before saying anything. “Yes,” she said ruefully, “no more enamouring here, and hopefully you and Jenny can be very happy because of it.”

Giles’ eyes flicked to back exit, then back to Buffy’s face. “Really?”

Buffy nodded, picking up a bone from the pile and smashing to pieces. “Well, the rest is up to you two, really, but if I have any say, you will be.” Xander reappeared with several hammers, handing one to Willow cheerfully. Giles smiled and brought his hammer down on a femur. Cordelia wrinkled her nose and selected a hammer tentatively.

“And, uh, him?” Giles asked.

“Not now,” she said, “I’ll explain soon. You’re going to be even more upset than they will.”

 

By the time bones had been pulverized, Ms. Calendar had returned with bundles of paper and spell packets for everyone. “Ok,” she said, sliding into her bright, confident teacher voice, “So even someone with no experience casting spells, or who has very little to no magic should be able to cast the basic disinvite spell if they need to.” She handed one to each person, including Giles. Xander and Willow tucked the packets into their pockets; Giles walked towards his desk and was about to put it in his desk drawer.

“Giles, you can’t disinvite him from the library. It’s a public place. You need to take that home--in case something happens.” He looked at her sharply, then placed it in the jacket that hung over the back of his chair.

 

Buffy swept the bone powder into a partially empty bottle of holy water. It sizzled slightly, then fell to the bottom of the glass, a plain, pale layer of sediment. She turned to Willow, “I’m off to pour this in as many places as possible, can you guys hose down the area we smashed him up in with the rest of the holy water? Then I think it’s probably time for everyone to go home.”

“So the manual labor part of the night is over now? Screw you, losers, I’m going home!” announced Cordelia cheerfully as she swept out of the room. She and Angel would be a match made in hell, surely.

 

Buffy sighed and made a lazy circuit around the deserted school, shaking the bottle every now and again as she poured the Master’s remains in flower beds, floor drains, lab room sinks, the hallway water fountains, and to her immense delight, both of the men’s and women’s bathrooms. The last drops she sprinkled across the grass in front of the library, before throwing the bottle into a nearby garbage can, where it cracked in half.

 

Only Giles and Ms. Calendar were still in the library when she returned. Buffy motioned Jenny into Giles’ office and asked him to wait outside. After she shut the door behind them, she turned to Jenny and drew a preparatory breath.

“Look, there isn’t any easy way to say this without sounding all dramatic, and weird, but,” she wrinkled her nose. “I know who you are. What you are. Why you’re here. I need you to come up with an English translation of Angel’s curse in case he manages to break it somehow and starts raping and killing little girls again.”

Jenny stared at her in shock. “How, how did you find that out? Who are you?”

“I found out about the curse the hard way, no thanks to you. You of all people should know what Angel’s type is and you were just going to let us. . . let me. . .” she huffed exasperatedly and shuddered. “Listen, you need to tell Giles, he really likes you or will really like you soon if he doesn’t already and he needs to know. And, well, this conversation continues to be kinda cliche but, if you’re not with us, you’re against us. We need all the information we can so there aren’t any surprises. So we can make sure that the people who are the most vulnerable are protected when they need protecting.” Buffy gave Jenny a hard look and continued.

“It’s. . . really, really early, and we all need to get home before it’s time to get up again. Please, seriously think about what I’ve said. And, regardless of what you decide, we need the translated curse, because I say from experience that killing Angel does not keep him killed.”

Jenny nodded tightly and white-faced, jerkily gathered her things from the room and exited the office. Buffy could hear her softly wish Giles good night and turn down the hall, her heels echoing sharply as she hurried away.

 

Giles walked in a few minutes later. His face was pinched with stress and he had bags under her eyes.

“Do you mind if I bunk on your couch?” Buffy asked. “I don’t think I could even begin to explain to mom why there’s a forty year old man dropping off her sixteen year old daughter at four in the morning, disheveled, bloody, and wearing someone else’s shirt.”

Giles’ eyes flickered with amusement and he nodded as he picked up his wallet and keys.

“To the Gilesmobile!” she chirped, suddenly full of energy. Giles shrugged on his jacket and shook his head at Buffy, then again at himself when he tried to lock the library, so bent out of their frame they could barely move. He pocketed his keys instead.

 

“In the morning, you need to call. . . Sam. . . Zambooie? Zabote?” Buffy wrinkled her nose as they crossed the parking lot. “Kendra Young’s Watcher, and tell them to stay in Jamaica.”

“Zabuto? Why on earth would they come here?”

Buffy sighed softly and touching his elbow lightly, gently steered him towards the car he’d missed in his confusion and exhaustion. “I died Giles. Another Slayer was called, they think the Hellmouth is unguarded.”

“Well. Yes. . . Of course. . . I assume this is a part of the prescient knowledge you gained access to since your resuscitation?” Giles unlocked the driver’s side door and bent over to pop the lock on the passenger side.

“Can’t get much past you, can I?” She slid in and buckled the seatbelt.

“Ah, no, I rather think not.”

 

The rest of the drive was quiet. Giles opened the door to his flat and stumbled through the door, his foot catching on the frame. Buffy caught his elbow and lead him inside, then locked the door. She dropped the keys in the bowl near the entrance without a second thought and Giles gave her a funny look.

“The gang ended up here quite often. I know my way around, even cooked Thanksgiving dinner in your kitchen one year. We got attacked by Native American vengeance spirits and Spike got shot in the chest with an arrow.”

Giles looked concerned and Buffy waved him off, “He was fine, really. You look knackered, go to bed. I know where everything is, I’ll sort myself out.”

“‘Knackered?’” Giles blearily repeated. Buffy rolled her eyes. Out of everything, that’s the one that throws him for a loop.

“Knackered: extremely tired or worn out and damaged by overuse. You look like both apply right now.” She sighed when his eyebrow remained raised. “We all lived in England for a year or so after the catastrophe that, how did you put it? ‘Rendered Sunnydale inhospitable.’ Just got to bed, this’ll make much more sense at lunch time.” She smiled and pushed him towards the stairs before adding, “I even know how to make tea you said is ‘acceptable!’”

Giles nodded lethargically and shuffled up out of sight. After a few minutes the light clicked off in the loft and Buffy could hear him shifting around in the dark. She yawned and began to dig around the apartment, getting sheets and pillows for the couch.

In the bathroom she decided on a quick shower and was hit by an unexpected wave of painful nostalgia at the sight of Giles’ tub, minus her vampire.

He’ll be here in a month or two, all evil and ready to kill me. She swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure she could do that dance again and watch Spike fawning over Dru.


	4. Chapter 4

Quotes bastardised from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, 1872

I have also taken liberties with Dana's story from Damage Season 5, episode 11 of Angel.

 

 

The sun had completely risen by the time Buffy finally fell asleep. Her dreams were inundated with dragon fire and blood, she watched as everyone she loved smiled at her through red mouths, impaled and bleeding out.

She saw Spike’s smile, without his face. It rested gently on the pooled remains of his axe, soup in the boiling asphalt until a gentle breeze blew the smile towards the hungry maw of the hell dimension that scarred the LA skyline.

“Tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” She said, staring into the wound in reality.

“That depends,” said Spike’s smile as it glinted on the wind, “a good deal on where you want to get to.”

“I don’t much care where--” started Buffy.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” the smile interrupted.

“--so long as I get somewhere,” Buffy tried to explain.

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the grin, “if you only walk long enough.”

Well! I’ve often seen a vampire without a grin, thought Buffy, but a grin without a vampire! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life! She thought for a further moment, watching the dragon’s -- now a jabberwocky -- impossible aerial maneuvers.

“But, I don’t want to go among mad people,” Buffy added.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the smirk. “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad. He's mad”

 

Buffy looked left to find the cheese man carefully arranging individual slices of varying types of cheese on a dead Chaos demon.

She shook her head.

 

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Buffy.

“You must be, or you wouldn’t have come here,” answered the leer.

 

“I really thought you would be the white rabbit,” Buffy observed.

“It’s your dream, luv. I’m whoever your subconscious thinks I should be.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Who’s playin’ the wrong character now, pet?” said the vampiric smile.

“What am I supposed to do? Why am I here?”

“I dunno, pet. I only know as much as you do.”

“Well. . . that’s unhelpful!”

“No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.”

Buffy!

“But!”

“Buffy! Wake up!” a voice yelled.

 

Her vision cleared and she looked up to see her Watcher standing over her, a spatula gripped tightly in his right hand.

“I don’t think the spatula is going to help, Giles,” she said wryly, blinking hard and forcing herself to wake up fully.

He looked at her perplexed, then at the spatula, and placed it on the coffee table next to the couch. “Are you alright? You appeared to be having a frightful nightmare.”

“There was a dragon, and fire, a tear in reality, and Alice in Wonderland? A smile without a vampire.”

“Like the Cheshire Cat?” Giles asked.

“I asked why I was here,” Buffy yawned, “and he said: ‘No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time’ and then you woke me up.”

“What a disturbing thing to dream of, especially the characters not using their own dialogue.” Giles looked apprehensive despite himself.

“I know! That’s what I told him! He laughed at me.”

“Well, it was a dream, dear,” Giles tried for a comforting tone but somehow missed. Buffy patted him gently on the shoulder. He looked so out of his depth.

“My subconscious misquoting Alice in Wonderland is far from my biggest problem right now. No, my biggest problem is that I’m in 1997.”

“But it is 1997,” exclaimed Giles, regaining himself.

“Yes, but when I died, it was 2004! I don’t know why I’m here or how much I should change -- because believe you me, there is no way I’m sleeping with Angel again just to preserve the timeline! That timeline sucks! It needs a makeover! I’m not doing it again! Am I in a different dimension? Parallel universe? Is this the one where I turned left instead of right? Did time split when I woke up after Xander gave me CPR and I freaked out? Is this even real?”

“Well,” said Giles carefully, “do you. . . er, did you, know anyone with dimension hopping experience?”

“Yes. . .” said Buffy slowly. “But, like I said in the library, you aren’t going to like it.”

Giles smiled thinly and seemed to be resisting the urge to polish his glasses. “I’m coming to understand that there are a great many things about this, ah, situation, that I dislike and not a whole lot I can do about them. Please, tell me your idea.”

“Anya is a. . . was a? Is currently, a Vengeance Demon. They hop realities and dimensions all the time, granting wishes, spreading chaos. You know, original djinn stuff. She loses. . . lost? Her power center from an alternate version of you, in a few months from now. The You-Who-Smashed-It did it because I never came to Sunnydale and the Master pretty much killed everyone and turned the population left into cattle.” She paused for a moment, then added, “you can thank Cordelia for that one. Never say the w-word on the Hellmouth, Giles. That way lies badness.”

“Wuh?” Giles shook his head, “and you know this Anya person, because?”

“Because when she lost her powers, she was stuck in this dimension, had to live out her life as a highschool senior, like me and Xander and Willow. Xander fell in love with her, then you hired her to run the Magic Box with you after you got fired. Then I died, you went back to England -- leaving the Hellmouth guarded by Xander, Willow, and a hyperactive vampire. They resurrected me one hundred and forty-seven days later, pulling me out of heaven, forcing me to climb out of my own grave and fight a bunch of biker demons -- while I was still choking on grave dirt! -- and then be all depresso-Buffy for months until Xander and Anya were supposed to get married. Except Xander got cold feet, literally seconds away from walking down the aisle! Anya got pissed off and elevated and goes back to vengeance again, but couldn't really? Because she still loves Xander. Then more bad stuff and she dies in the final battle of Sunnydale, protecting a nerd from being shish-kabobed by a Harbinger of the First Evil. Xander was never the same.”

“Ah, so it’s complicated then?” Giles said succinctly.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Buffy sighed.

“Shall I get some paper and pen to write this down?”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” she said. “But maybe not until you’ve rescued whatever is starting to burn on the stove?”

Giles ran back into the kitchen and Buffy tossed the spatula at him through the kitchen pass through just as he opened his mouth to ask. Buffy busied herself making coffee and Giles’ cup of tea whilst he decided whether or not breakfast was worth saving.

 

It wasn't and they both had toast.


	5. Chapter 5

I continue to take liberties with Dana's story from Damage Season 5, episode 11 of Angel.

 

“So,” Giles started, settling in with his pen and paper, “What was the last thing you remember before arriving in this dimension?”

“I died, again. Impaled on a demon’s spear and finished off by a huge dragon.”

“And you woke up to?”

“Xander and Angel fighting over whether or not I was dead. I was just, kind of waiting? Hanging in the ether until Xander resuscitated me. I couldn’t move, talk, wasn’t breathing. My heart wasn’t beating. I was cold, stuck inside my own corpse with lungs full of water. Then Xander resuscitated me and I freaked out.”

“What was it that, as you say, ‘freaked you out?’”

“Xander’s face. . . it was wrong. And everyone promised not to bring me back again the next time I died.”

“What was wrong with Xander’s face, if you don’t mind my asking? Is there still something wrong with it? And next time? Next time you died?”

“Yes, he has and still continues to have both of his eyes. And, yeah. I’ve died four times. I didn’t want to come back again. I wanted to be done. But, now I’m here, I don’t really seem to have a choice do I? If I leave or die the Hellmouth will be unguarded--”

“What about the other Slayer? . . .er, Kendra? Couldn’t she?”

“Kendra is a Council-raised Slayer, Giles. She has nothing to live for besides her Calling, no family or friends supporting her. Slayers need a reason to live, and Kendra doesn’t have one.” Buffy folded herself more comfortably into the couch. “She lived for about a year in my timeline after she was Called. She was well-trained, but she’d never been taught to think on her feet, make her own decisions in the field, use her surroundings to her advantage. . . I’ve trained more than enough Slayers myself to know it was because she was raised by the Council. Slayers raised outside of Council teachings tend to last longer.”

“You trained Slayers? But the Council has research--”

Buffy laughed bitterly, “Is it peer reviewed research? Plenty of unbiased sources and supporting evidence? The Council is so insular they can’t even see their own prejudices. You should know they’re using bad research practices, Giles. Maybe in the olden days, when journeys required weeks of planning and months of travel to your destination, sure, the Slayers outside of the Council’s control had a high probability of being dead by the time their Watcher made it there. Or. . . maybe sometimes, it happened on purpose, on the off chance that a nicely trained, pliant and obedient Council potential would be called instead and they could easily use their disposable weapon until it ran out or gave up. Then they’d be rewarded with a nice, new, shiny Slayer when the old one got too difficult, started questioning things or talking back. Even if you hide it under tradition, call it a sacred Calling, it’s still slavery, Giles, and it’s wrong.”

“It’s not--”

“Really?” Buffy interrupted, “So do the Potentials the Council remove from their parents get taught any life skills besides fighting and how to kill stuff? Not really, huh? Basic math, English, Japanese, for some reason, and not a whole lot else?”

Giles nodded.

“So they don’t have any skills besides the ones that the Council teaches them. They’re made unemployable and unable to support themselves financially. It forces them on the generosity of their Watcher, who if they’re lucky, like me, treats them like an actual person, not a weapon. They aren’t allowed to date or build friendships; they have no one else to turn to. They aren’t even allowed to generally have fun -- what would you live for if it was you, Giles?

“Then one day, you’re too old. You’ve aged out. Your purpose is gone. What do you do? What skills do you have? Almost none, I’d bet. You follow your Watcher because it’s what you were trained to do, even though you have no potential now, you’re nothing. It’s indentured servitude. And don’t even get me started on the Cruciamentum. It’s disgusting and unethical and still makes me so angry I want to rip off Travers’ head with my bare hands. And it happened to me almost five years ago.” Buffy clenched her fists, trying to work out some of her rage. She drew a deep breath and resisted punching Giles’ couch.

“We had to do so much re-education, after the Council fell, Giles. There weren’t enough Watchers or money to go around and most of the Slayers were undereducated and destitute. Contrary to Council policy, you can’t just be the Slayer. That’s like saying you’re only allowed to be a librarian -- just fold yourself up into one of the bookcases until class starts in the morning and you can come out again. It’s absolutely absurd and I don’t know who made this shit up. People like Travers, probably. Slayers aren’t just demonic energy stuffed into a human suit for pompous English assholes to point at a demon and say, ‘kill.’ We have innate skills that can’t be taught by people who sit in the safety of their libraries.

“Most of all, we’re people! There were thousands of us, and the old Watchers, they treated us like children, with no minds of our own, like we were their property.” Buffy stopped her rant, chest heaving, face red, and said quietly, “Then, then if that wasn’t bad enough, there are a few Watchers that need their Potentials removed them entirely. Walter Kindel is one. After you’ve called Sam and let him know I’m alive, you need to ring Travers and report to him directly about the Slayer dream I had last night about the horrific abuse of Walter’s charge.”

Giles frowned deeply, “Surely you can’t be serious? Walter is an upstanding member of the Council.”

“Some people should not have unfettered access to children, Giles. Walter happens to be one such sicko. I know what he’s doing to her. I’ve seen the tapes he made. If it was in my power do it, I would put him down myself.” She sighed, “But, apparently, Watchers have rights that I, The Slayer, do not, so, no matter how much I want to. . . I have responsibilities here. Again.”

Giles cleared his throat and began polishing his glasses. “He really is that bad?”

Buffy nodded firmly, “that man is a monster. He could have given Angelus a run for his money back in the day.”

Giles returned his glasses to his nose and shifted uncomfortably. “Alright. How did you find out about Angelus?”

“The hard way -- through real, hands-on, practical experience. He coerced me into sleeping with him on my seventeenth birthday and when I woke up in the morning, he and his soul were gone. Having sex with a minor is apparently true happiness, at least, enough to break his curse. He killed bunches of blonde women who looked like me and left them all over town for me to find. He strung up Willow’s fish. Left hand-drawn pictures of me sleeping next to my pillow at night, told my Mom about my lack of sexual prowess. Killed Jenny and violated her corpse in your bed. Captured and tortured you for hours. Resurrected the Judge, who we killed with a rocket launcher, but not before he killed bunches of people at the mall, close to Christmas.”

Giles looked nauseated. “Jenny? Oh, god.”

“Yeah. Hence my giving him the cold shoulder.” Buffy sat up straighter and smiled grimly. “I will not be giving him his moment of perfect happiness this time. He can stalk me all he wants, but I’m faster, smarter, and have way more inside information than he could possibly imagine. He’s not getting close to my friends or family again.”

“The disinvite packages you had Jenny procure for us.”

“Yes, in my time, he had an invite to your apartment that everyone forgot about until it was too late. It got Jenny killed.”

“And Jenny has some special knowledge that we are not privy to, correct?”

Buffy nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “It’s her story. She knows that I know, but it’s her responsibility to divulge the information she has. I won’t unless the situation specifically calls for it. I think she’ll do the right thing though. She did in my reality, even if it was too late.”

Giles looked thoughtfully down at the list of notes he had taken. “Who resurrected you? Surely it wasn’t me, you implied I had moved back to England after your death.”

“No, Ripper,” Buffy grinned at his wince, “it wasn’t you. You had no idea what was going on.” She paused and took another sip, “It was Willow.”

Giles swallowed a hysterical laugh, “Willow? Surely, you can’t be serious?”

“As a heart attack. She ends up being one of the most powerful witches on the planet -- notice how I said ‘witch,’ and not ‘wicca?’ She could end the world if she wanted to and she almost did when Tara and I got shot -- my third death, by the way, and she resurrected me, again, that time too without my permission. Her first big spell was re-ensouling Angel when he tried to open Acaltha. She had no training whatsoever, and a head wound to boot.”

“Where was I? Wasn’t I involved at all?”

“As far as being tortured into unconsciousness can count as being involved. Willow has more magic in her big toe than you do in your entire body, Giles. And I am well aware of your involvement with Ethan Rayne -- you two both being disciples of Egyon and all that black magic you were into a young adult. Willow is scarier, and I have actually met Ripper and Rayne too, all angry and anarchist. Ended up with a disciple tattoo for my troubles of trying to keep Egyon from wearing you like a flesh suit.” She sighed, then continued, “Anyways, Xander saved your unconscious butt and I sent Angel -- not Angelus -- to hell on the point of his own sword. Then I ran away to LA for a few months, tried to disappear.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“My mother told me that, even if I was going to save the world, if I walked out of her house, not to come back. She accused me of killing Kendra, whose death I couldn’t do anything to stop, because Snyder caught me when I came back to library afterwards, looking for the enchanted sword Kendra brought to close Acaltha. Snyder expelled me and called the police. None of my friends could talk to me, they were all in the hospital, you were unconscious. I was wanted by the police for Kendra’s murder. . . I didn’t have anyone. I freaked.”

“Ah.”

Buffy nodded solemnly. “So, is it late enough to call Jamaica and England?”

Giles glanced up at the clock, “I believe so.”

“Call Jamaica first and I’ll write down exactly what Travers needs to know about Walter, so he knows where to look for the disgusting evidence he taped.”

“Are there many Watchers that should not have. . . access to young girls?”

“Off the top of my head? Walter is definitely the worst. There are ten or twelve others that are just plain cruel and abusive -- substandard living conditions, using starvation as motivation for their charges to do better. Not that it matters that starving them decreases muscle mass, coordination, cognitive reasoning abilities, and stops correct development of bones and skews their decision-making skills, hormones, and bodies in general. . .”

“Ten or twelve? That’s horrendous! Surely the Council has measures in place for such situations.”

Buffy shrugged. “For all their self-importance -- maybe because of? The Watchers Council has problems on par with the Catholic Church. You know, ancient, well-regarded, and respected institution, relied on to teach and guide it’s followers on their righteous path, but notoriously low on the outside accountability thing? C’mon, Giles, as the Watcher of the only active Slayer in the world, well, until now, what’s my recourse supposed to be if I think I’m being treated unfairly? What do you think?”

Giles was quiet for several minutes, then blinked his eyes to clear them and gravely announced, “I should ring Samuel now.” He stood up and Buffy caught his arm as he brushed past her to the phone.

“Thank you, Giles. I don’t think you understand how much it means to have you on my side in this.” She laid her head on his arm for a moment, then nudged him back towards the phone.

Giles stole a glance at her while he dialed and watched with a faint stab to his heart, as she discreetly wiped away a tear and looked down into her empty coffee cup, her expression suddenly forlorn and broken. He turned away as she started to look up and turned his attention to phone connecting.

“Hello, this is Samuel speaking.”

“Sam,” he answered with warmth, “it’s Rupert. How are you traveling, old chap?”

“Rupert, god, man, do you have no feeling at all? Are you drunk? Surely you are aware your Slayer was killed last night? What is the situation there, do you need backup?”

“No, no, friend, our Miss Summers drowned for a moment last night, we were able to successfully resuscitate her, but, eh, not as it seems before your charge was Called. I wanted to personally assure you that the Hellmouth remains guarded. We are no worse for wear, no reason to send your. . . charge. . . to Sunnydale. Our fight was successful.”

“Alright, very well, though how on earth did you know Miss Young had been Called? I only just rang the Council.”

“Miss Summers appears to have had a very revealing Slayer dream last night, involving the arrival of your charge in Sunnydale in a few weeks, among other, more disturbing things. No doubt you will hear about all of it in the fullness of time. I must go, I have another urgent call to make.”

“Giles!” Buffy called from the table, where she was writing studiously, “tell Sam that ‘the dark power rising in Sunnydale is well in hand,’ however, could he please send the ‘Virtuous Knight’s Blessed Sword’ to us when it’s found? We may need it.”

Giles turned back to the phone, “did you by chance catch any of that?”

There was silence for a moment, then Giles could hear the crinkling of paper and the scratch of pen across the long distance phone connection. “‘The dark power rising in Sunnydale is well in hand. . . the Virtuous Knight’s Blessed Sword,’ yes, I have it down. I shall let you know if anything turns up.”

“Very good, I’ll speak to you later.”

“Of course.” The dial tone heralded the end of their bizarre conversation.

 

“The dark power rising in Sunnydale is well in hand, and the, er. . . the Virtuous Knight’s Blessed Sword?” Giles asked, walking towards the table.

“The dark power rising was Angelus trying to open Acaltha. We need the Knight’s sword to close the portal once it was opened. Sorry, Giles, eight years of memories is difficult to sort through. I didn’t mean to make you look bad in front of your Watcher-friend.”

He snorted and answered, “It’s alright, dear. Your, ah. . . enthusiasm, happens to be well documented by your previous Watcher, Merrick. After he passed, his diaries were made public and many Watchers tasked with Potentials probably examined the text in an effort to prepare themselves for an eventuality like Lothos. Samuel may not have been expecting to have the information yelled at him over the phone quite like that, but I doubt he would take offense or think worse of my character or ability to control my charge.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow, “Enthusiasm was a good save, Giles.”

The older man smiled, “I thought as much.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this one is lots darker than the last few chapters. You have been warned.
> 
> Celia referenced from Season 2 Episode 18 Killed by Death- Buffy uses Celia’s name when speaking to the detective because lies always sound more convincing when they have a ring of truth to them, not because I think Celia is still alive.
> 
> Fair warning folks, this chapter was difficult to write, read- also edit according to my poor beta. If anything, such as what has already been alluded to in the story previously squicks you out skip the parts bounded by asterisks. I’ll provide a non-squicky summary in the endnotes- It doesn't really need it, it makes next to no difference in the story apart from developing how much of a monster Walter is.

“Good lord, Buffy, you want me to lie to the head of the Watcher’s Council? Do you have any idea what you are asking?”

“Yes,” she said with finality, stony-faced. “You didn’t have to hold those girls while they cried over their ‘unfortunate ill use’ -- as a few choice Council members put it in my time, Giles. I love you like the father I never had, but those girls’ abuse at the hands of trusted Council employees far outweighs my concern for your continued invite to their annual symposium. The needs of the many, Giles.”

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment and he looked on the verge of protesting, before he sighed and picked up the phone. He crooked it between his ear and shoulder and reached for the paperwork Buffy held out for him. “Very well,” he said wearily, “I’d like it noted that I am against the subterfuge.”

“Duly noted,” Buffy taped the receiver. “But we have to do this first. Now dial, Giles!”

He eyed her suspiciously and dialed the number they had found for the Seattle PD. The phone rang for a few minutes before a perky voice answered.

“Hello? Ahh, yes, I wonder if you could connect me to someone that can help me. I think my niece may have inadvertently witnessed a crime while visiting Seattle this past weekend.” He stared impassively at the wall. “Yes, of course. . . I’ll hold.” He covered the receiver with his palm and whispered, “You had better be bloody sure about this.”

Buffy nodded stoically, “Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re a demon wearing the skin of my dead Slayer, attempting to bring down the Watcher’s Council from the inside?”

Buffy looked thoughtful, “I hadn’t really thought about that until right now. Shouldn’t like an anti-possession spell been the first thing done? Why didn’t you do that? I would have been fine with that and a truth spell or a revealing spell first, maybe? Something. . . Why did you trust me?”

“It’s, um, really only just occurred to me now, also, you wouldn’t have any qualms about doing that after this, would you?”

“As long as whatever you do doesn’t hurt and if it kills me, you promise not to bring me back again.”

“I think I can see my way clearly enough not to break the laws of nature and corrupt this reality. Yours sounded bad enough. I have no wish to inflict that on the one I live in.”

Buffy nodded, “Perfect. Very Watcher-y of you, Giles. I would expect nothing less.”

 

“Err. . . Hello?” The phone came back to life in his hands and a tinny voice asked if he was still on the line. “Ah, yes. . . and no, not for me, my niece. . . she’s been having nightmares about her. . . misadventure. Yes, she told me the basics of what happened. It was most disturbing. . .” He was silent as the detective prepared to take down his information.

“Mm, yes, this weekend previous, ah,” his eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall, a month out of date, and he rolled his eyes at himself. God, the girl has me doing it now.

Buffy mouthed twenty-first at him as he came back to himself.

“The twenty-first of June. Apparently there are some buildings on the east side of Seattle that are in disrepair, near where her cousin lives -- where she was staying this weekend. . . No, although she did say that they were warned repeatedly not to go into the structures because they were condemned and dangerous. . . Probably not, she did say it smelled like alcohol though. . . a distillery, maybe? Hm, yes, that may well be the place. I’ll put her on.” Giles pulled the phone a short way from his lips and said to Buffy -- loud enough for the detective to overhear --, “You must tell the detective exactly what you heard the man say. He does not care if you must use bad language. He needs to know exactly what you heard so they can. . . do something. . . about that man.”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy nodded and took the phone. “Hello?” Her stomach tightened and she could feel real trepidation creeping in.

“Hi, I’m Detective Spangler, with the Seattle Police Department. Your uncle tells me you and your cousin might have overhead something bad happening while you were exploring in Seattle this weekend.”

“Uh, yeah. Celia told me we would be in really big trouble, though, if anyone found out were there.”

“Could you tell me what you and your cousin were doing?”

“She said she was going to meet her boyfriend. I totally knew he didn’t exist; she was just making it up to seem cool. She’s such a faker.”

“Can you describe what happened?”

“Um, it was really scary. . . There, uh, was a man. . .” Buffy lapsed into silence, her queasiness growing as she started to recall the tapes she had seen.

“Could you describe him?”

“We didn’t see his face, just his back. . .”

“Did he have an accent, a lisp, a stutter? Anything we could use to identify him?”

“He, uh, sounds kinda like my uncle.”

“Kind of?”

“He yelled a lot and it got hard to tell. We didn’t stay very long. There was. . . lots of crying -- she sounded really little.”

“Did she say anything you can remember?”

“She kept saying she was sorry and that she’d learned her lesson. She said something about not wanting to be a ‘bad po’ssenital layer’ and wanted him to stop hurting her. She kept saying, ‘please’ and promising to be a good little girl.” Giles gave her a quizzical look and Buffy shrugged. The girl was eleven, with little to no schooling, it was about how she had pronounced it.

“The girl said she was a. . . a. . . ‘bad po’ssenital layer’? Do you have any idea what that could mean.”

“I dunno. . . we left, ‘cause he. . . he stopped yelling.” Buffy had seen the videos six months ago -- well, six years and six months into the future. Thinking about it still made her white-hot with rage and nauseous. She was endlessly horrified that no one had tried to help sooner. She cleared her throat and wiped her suddenly wet face.

 

 

******************************************************************************

 

 

“Can you tell me what happened next?” The detective asked gently.

“There were noises. . . he was. . . and she was so scared. . . He was doing things to her. . . things you shouldn’t do to little girls.” Giles silently tapped her shoulder and she jumped. He handed over his handkerchief and briefly gripped her hand in silent support.

“Miss? What happened next? Did he say anything else you can remember?” the detective asked kindly, “We need to know so we can make sure this doesn’t happen to any other little girls.”

“He. . . the girl was making this like. . . wet, choking noise, like she couldn’t breathe and he started yelling again and we heard him slap her really hard. . . H-he said, ‘You bit me y-you-you little cocksucking c-c-cunt.’” Buffy sucked in a ragged breath. This was somehow worse than watching the tapes. “T-the girl started apologizing again and crying harder. Something heavy hit the other side of the wall we were hiding behind and the girl was quiet. That’s when we started to run away and he yelled, ‘I’m going to fucking wreck you, you god-damned prick-tease’ and the little girl screamed.”

 

 

******************************************************************

 

 

“Did you hear anything else after that?”

“N-no. We ran away. We were really frightened and we knocked over something and it made this loud noise. We thought he might come after us.”

“Do you remember anything else? We need to make sure we have as much evidence as possible.”

“N-no, I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything else. You’ll stop him. . . you’ll help her though, won’t you?”

“We will do everything possible. Can I talk to your uncle again, please?”

Buffy thanked the detective and handed the receiver back to Giles who was looking a little pale, but stammered his thanks and gave the detective a contact number.

After he hung up, Giles said gently, “Despite all the evil we see, one does not. . . cannot fathom the depravity of some men. . . it does not, needless to say, make it easier when found so close to home.” He pulled his glasses off his head and pushed the heels of hands into his eyes for a moment. “What do you propose we do next, call the Council?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said quietly, “just, uh, just give me a few minutes, ok?”

He watched as Buffy walked to the bathroom, her shoulders bowed under the weight of an unseen force. He wondered, not for the first time, what the Powers That Be had been thinking, loading such awful responsibility on such tiny shoulders.

 

Buffy exited the bathroom a few minutes later, her face red from scrubbing and absent of makeup.

“Ok, Giles,” she said, forcing herself to sound more chipper than she felt, “let’s unstuff some shirts.”

He eyed her suspiciously at her decidedly un-American terminology.

She shrugged and smiled, “Future, remember?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. You did it again. The girl is a bad influence on you, old chap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unnecessary asterisk summary;
> 
> Buffy describes in disturbing detail what she saw in the tapes to Detective Spangler, and everyone is unhappy and generally disillusioned by reality.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us so far guys. I know this one wasn't lots of fun. Please leave some feedback, it would be greatly appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spell adapted from ‘Something Blue’ Season 4 Episode 9 of Buffy.
> 
> I have also taken liberties with the information of the slayer called before Buffy.
> 
> Also also I have asked Toften very nicely if I could borrow her slayer/vamp lore to use for my own purposes, yay for permission!

Giles spent nearly an hour being passed through what seemed like every department in the Council of Watchers before finally managing to get Quentin Travers on the other end of the line. “Mr. Travers, sir--” he began.

“Rupert,” Quentin interrupted, “we were all saddened to hear about the passing of your most. . . exuberant. . . charge. I will be expecting your final diaries, along with you, of course, to be arriving at the Council in the coming weeks, yes?”

“Er, I rather think not, sir, seeing as--”

“Rupert, I understand how devastating the loss of one’s Slayer must be, but it is the Council’s responsibility to uphold and continue on the essential--”

“Sir, I rather think that is unnecessary, my charge is--”

“Is dead, yes, dear man, there is no use drawing it out unnecessarily though.”

Giles grit his teeth in frustration, had Travers always been such a pompous twit? “Quentin, listen. My Slayer is not--”

“You are crossing the line into insubordination, sir, I’d thank you to remember your place. I understand this is a trying time for you, but you cannot refer to me--”

“IS NOT DEAD, MAN. WOULD YOU LISTEN A MOMENT?”

Giles fancied he could hear the gears in Quentin’s mind grind to a halt. Quentin cleared his throat, steadied himself and asked, “Ah. . . how is this? Miss Young was called sometime last night. You claim to still retain your Slayer?”

“Miss Summers drowned long enough for a new Slayer to be chosen, however, she was successfully resuscitated and went on to kill The Master, who had escaped confinement.”

“Very good. I shall be waiting for your report on the situation, then.”

“She had a dream last night -- a Slayer dream or so it appears. She is of the opinion that the Council needed to know urgently.”

“Yes? How interesting. She still retains her powers?”

“Indeed. She appears to have retained all of her faculties and inherent Slayer abilities.”

“Fascinating, and you are coming to be directly about this matter, because. . .?”

“Her dream, er, she says Sineya advised her that the shadows were harming her daughters and that there was a--er, a flying fish, a bottle of rum, and a wall of chewing gum.”

“Is that so?” Travers sounded skeptical, “Seems utter nonsense. Are you sure she has not been overly excited by the events of late?”

“Miss Summers was most distraught this morning when she told me. I’ve never seen her react like this to a Slayer dream before, not even the one that foretold her death a short while ago. From what I could deduce of her jumbled recollection, there were a few names that she was shown in a ledger, with someone, who I believe, in fact, may be you, sir, leaning over it in some concern.”

“How was she able to recognize me? I don’t believe it is Council policy to. . .”

“You were leaning over the brass nameplate on your desk, sir. Her description of you also seemed fairly accurate.”

“And the names?”

“She is unable to recall. She said the ledger was dark blue leather, unopened at the beginning of the dream. I have a few ideas -- possibly hypnosis induced regression. I will report back with any results.”

“Of course, see that you do.”

 

Travers leaned over his nameplate to abruptly hang up the phone. He had started to pace in front of his desk, irritated when Rupert had refused to end the call. He rotated the dark blue ledger on the desk around to face him and fingered the spine of the volume, where Potentia was outlined in delicate gold letters. It was also embossed on the cover.

He flipped to the page where most of the current potentials were listed and shuddered despite himself, as if someone had just walked over his grave. Travers steadied himself and took a breath. The shadows are hurting Sineya’s daughters. . . That did not bode well for the council.

 

***

 

“So,” Buffy said perkily, “truth spell first, or anti-possession? What’s your poison?”

“Er, I really thought you would be more. . . less. . . eager. . . er, yes, truth spell?”

Buffy settled herself into the lotus position on the living room rug and looked up at him expectantly. He glanced around the room hesitantly.

“What’cha waiting for, Giles? Truth me up!”

“Yes, indeed.” He turned and began to rummage through his shelves, looking for the spell book and ingredients. Her enthusiasm was unnerving.

A few minutes later, he returned with everything and found Buffy artfully balanced on her knees, still in full lotus, her ankles crossed at her thighs. She plopped back onto the rug and smiled up at him again.

“Alright,” he said and settled himself on the floor in front of Buffy.

“Giles. . . aren’t you forgetting something?”

He looked at the bundles in front of him: mugwort, honeysuckle, gangal, smudge stick, spellbook. . . no paper, no pen, and no incendiary device for the smudge stick. He groaned, retrieved all three, along with a bowl from the kitchen, and settled himself again in front of his Slayer.

The more time he was around her the more sure he felt of her veracity, her. . . her-ness, for lack of a better term. The truth spell felt insulting and he was starting to feel guilty. The girl herself suggested the damn thing Rupert. No, he told himself no, one must discount personal feelings to make absolutely sure that there is no foul play. He partially unwound the smudge stick, added mugwort and honeysuckle, then re-wrapped it. Giles glanced down at the book on his knees and nodded to Buffy. Buffy nodded back.

 

“Enemy, enemy, be now quiet,” He struck a match against the box and let it burn for a moment before applying it to the bundle of herbs in his other hand.

“Let your deceitful tongue be broken,” the bundle burst into flame and Giles dropped the match in the bowl.

“Let the goddess Veritas be woken.” He blew out the smudge stick and waved in front of Buffy. She dutifully inhaled the smoke. Her implicit trust was. . . well, it was more than he had in himself.

“Let no untruthful words be spoken,” he stubbed the smudge stick out on the bottom of the bowl.

“So mote it be.” He felt a zing of magic as the truth spell took effect and readied his pen. “The fall of the Council? I trust this was not something you orchestrated?”

“No, Faith and I had been having dreams for months -- potentials being brutally killed by Harbingers of the First Evil, these eyeless stabby guys in brown robes. The whole of the Council was under attack but they wouldn’t believe that we weren’t making it up. The Bringers blew up the Council, killing the majority of the Watchers, who were inside when it happened, including Quentin Travers. After Sunnydale became a crater, you became the de facto Head Watcher, the only one currently in the field, one of the few who made it, with the Slayers-in-training that made it out of Sunnydale.”

“Faith? Slayers -in-training?”

“Faith was called after Kendra died. She. . . had some trouble. . . a lot of it wasn’t her fault totally. I’d like to get to her before Kakistos does this time. It screwed her up pretty badly: she killed a few people, went to jail. Just--look, I’m trying not to make excuses for her, but her parents were absolute garbage people, treated her terribly, stopped her from going to school, abused her and a bunch of other things I could never get her to confide in me. Kakistos found her and her Watcher, just after she was called, and tortured both of them.”

“Kakistos--er, the. . . worst. . . rule?”

Buffy nodded. “You said it meant ‘the worst of the worst.’ He killed her Watcher in front of her but Faith managed to blind Kakistos and escaped to Sunnydale. Lots of bad things happened after that, including her team-up with the Mayor who has. . . was. . . is. . .? Trying to ascend to become an Olvi--oki--olvikan. A pure breed demon, like the Old Ones that Sineya banished.”

“Ah, and we successfully thwarted all these events? What about the Slayers-in-training?”

“We had to blow up the school to kill him once he ascended, but yeah, we did it. The SITs are potentials that survived the First. We were running out of options and found this weapon, the First Slayer’s weapon, that used to banish the last of the Old Ones. It was. . . is. . . imbued with the. . . essence isn’t the right word, but like, it was full of the intention of the Slayer line. We used it to activate every potential on the planet. Most of them were untrained, so they became SITs -- Slayers-in-training.

“The ones who fought in Sunnydale became the New Council’s first graduates, our first lieutenants. After that, graduating Slayers were allocated to squads scattered around demonic hotspots across the world.

“We had specialized squads who were on call for apocoli. Some Slayers had magic. Some were part demon. We had empaths, dream walkers, healers, telepaths, precogs, girls that could power share, manipulate fire, girls with telekinesis. . . There were so many of them. We found places for all of them. Even the ones that the old Council would have put down for being impure or seen as some kind of anathema to Council policy, like girls with children, husbands, family. Some that didn't identify as female as well as. . Nuns, Sisters, Bhikkhuni, Druidesses, Priestesses, all of them.”

Giles looked gobsmacked, “Slayers with other supernatural powers? Astounding! Druidesses? Lord, I had no idea that there were still orders that existed, I wonder if the Council is aware. . .”

Buffy cleared her throat. “That was the setup until Angel’s battle in LA. He took on the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart. He tried to defeat the Circle of the Black Thorn and lost.

“He lost his entire team and took whole squads of my girls with them. . . We lost more of my girls in two days than we had in the preceding two years, and that included all the potentials that hadn’t made it to Slayer-hood because of the Bringers in the First’s battle.

“He never planned on winning. . . he managed to bring about an apocalypse all by himself and wasn’t even there to see the result.”

Giles nodded. “Why do you keep saying ‘my girls’? One would assume after all of your fervor about the girls not being owned by anyone, being their own person, that it would be hypocritical of you to assume a proprietary role over them.”

“How much do you know about Slayer succession? Not like ‘one dies, another is chosen’ but the nitty gritty mechanics of it?”

“Er. . . not much, I confess. There’s not a lot of hard evidence written on the subject. It’s all mostly conjuncture, educated guesses, if you like.”

“Ok, well, Slayer history time. In the beginning, there were humans struggling to survive against pureblood demons that reigned over Earth in the early days of what could crudely be called civilization. The humans were losing, so the village elders decided to create a weapon that could control: part human, part demon.

“They chained a girl to the earth, performed a sacrifice and forced this smoky Shadowy Demon inside of her, using blood magic, similar to how vampires are created--”

“Sorry,” Giles looks horrified. “Blood magic? Vampires? How do you--what?”

“So, the creation of a vampire, it’s a ritual that consists of blood, a sacrifice, and blood magic. It replaces the soul of the person the vampire has selected with the soul of the demon. The sacrifice is the death and the blood of the person in question, the whole feeding of the sire’s blood to the person is the ritual, which, here endeth the ritual, completes the fledgling. Same goes for Slayers. The death of the last girl works as the sacrifice for the next and so on. Well, until you get to me. I technically completed the sacrifice part of the ritual, but I didn’t stay dead. There are two girls with Slayer demons wandering around now. My next death won’t call another Slayer, the line runs through Kendra, and later, Faith. Ready for the next part?”

Giles nodded avidly. He was writing so furiously the paper in his notepad had torn in a few places and he had gotten ink smears on his fingers.

“So, the Shadow Men get their weapon by getting all ritually and fusing the soul of a girl and the smoke demon together and creating the first Slayer, endowing her with all the inherent strengths Slayers have today. The girl’s name was Sineya. She wandered the wastes, killing and banishing the Old Ones. It created the fairly chaotic order we know and enjoy today. Then she was eventually killed. . . or died of old age, no one is really sure. No one really knows how old Slayers grow to be and if they die mortal deaths or not, since the ritual is so close to vampires and all that.”

“B-but, why vampires, Buffy? You’ve brought them up several times in context with Slayers and I’m not sure I--”

“Our demons are related. It’s why we can sense each other. Our demons are incorporeal, like vampires, and based on the multitude of random Slayer dreams I’ve had over the past nine years, Slayers used to have these tiny little milk fangs. I guess that the Shadow Men thought it was distasteful to have that constant reminder of how close Slayers are to vampires. Why do you think we’re called ‘Vampire Slayers’ and not ‘Demon Slayers’?

“Spike always said being in the same room as me made his gums itch. I’d wager Angels feel the same. It’s not a coincidence that it happens. I can’t sense any other demons, just vampires, Turok-Han, oh and Succubi, for some reason.” She wrinkled her nose, then continued. “Our demons all come from the same family tree. It’s why if there are vampires in our territory we feel compelled to go and remove them. It’s not down to Watchers turning up and telling us to patrol cemeteries. Chosen girls we found without Watchers, with no idea what was going on, but they felt the need to go and weed out the demons encroaching on their territories anyway.

“It’s why we, me in particular here, are attracted to vampires. A lot of the older Slayers from my time were as well. They can keep up, Giles,” she said, “we don’t have to worry about hurting them by squeezing too hard, we don’t have to pull our punches, we can go all out without fear of killing them by accident.” Buffy had sped up as Giles turned redder and redder. She swallowed anxiously and then went on, “So, with that in mind. . . back to the whole ‘mine’ thing. . . When Willow called all the potentials in the world to be Slayers, she used me as -- for lack of a better term -- their sire. They all felt like they were mine. I’d died twice since then and no new Slayer had been called, so she used that as the basis to call the rest of them.

“I could kinda feel them. I was the head of the new Slayer line. So, yes, they all where technically my daughters, but they’re their own people too. They weren’t my property, we were just related. Like I was a village elder or something.”

Giles nodded. “Other Slayers were attracted to vampires? But they’re just mindless animals. How could any of those girls possibly think about being with one?”

“Quick detour. The only example I have right now is Angel, who is not a good representation of the whole but he’ll do. So there are three types of fledgling. The first is most aggressive and, as you said, Giles, primitive. They can only be controlled by the sires that turned them. Younger vamps call them ‘torpedoes’ -- point them in the direction you want and watch them explode. Sometimes they’re called ‘grenades’ or ‘Kamikazes.’ Their unsouled purpose in unlife is to go in, nuke the landscape, maybe deliver a message, but really just make as much collateral damage as possible.

“They’re turned on the smallest amount of blood and are difficult for even sires to control. We found out later that’s what Darla did to Jessie. He was turned specifically to send us a message. There isn’t much, if any, human intelligence left in them at all. Angelus actually made me one, sent it out into the sun with a message for me and everything, in the middle of class.”

She ticked one of three points off on her fingers and continued. “Next, minions. This is usually what we see in the graveyards at night. They rise endlessly like weeds. They’re turned specifically to perform menial labor -- smart enough to perform complex tasks, but not smart enough to think for themselves and say, form a union. They’re turned with more blood than grenades and retain some of their human intelligence, along with their memories.”

She ticked off a second finger. “Finally, childer, the most intelligent type of vamp. They retain almost all of their human traits, memories, and emotions. They’re kind of like royalty. They’re taught well, usually very intelligent and typically are turned specifically for traits they had before death. If you’re a ruthless, demented serial killer in real life, the demon feeds that impulse and accentuates it. If you were gentle and loving, with a loyal streak a mile wide, that’s what you get when turned, except now, you aren’t bound by society or conscience. You would literally go to the ends of the world for the ones you love and are loyal too -- burn down entire villages to get a cure for your beloved.

“But like normal fledges, their impulse control is shot. Nothing sounds unachievable. It’s not until they have a few years under their belts that they can tone it down and see a little clearer. We don’t ever see childer popping up in cemeteries -- they’re too valuable. Making a childe is like making a family member, having children. There’s no way a sire making a childe would want to leave it to chance that their new charge would get cremated.

“Childer are turned on lots of blood, so much it’s a sacrifice to make a childe because it weakens the sire considerably.

“Angel, for instance, Darla chose him for his ruthlessness, his hedonism, his zest for giving other people pain, and his cold, calculating nature. Being turned added murder, rape, and torture to the long list of virtues Darla already saw in him.

“When you get turned, your remorse, your empathy. . . it all changes. Why would you feel bad about killing your own food? We don’t feel bad about eating cattle.- Mostly.”

“But the other Slayers -- why would they. . . ?” Giles still looked confused.

“Giles, I really don’t think you understand how difficult it is to do everyday tasks with Slayer strength. The Slayers that had vampire partners. . . they were all childer. Minions aren’t intelligent enough, they can’t really control the blood lust. Not all Slayers had vampires as significant others, some had Braken and other peaceful type demons, but they were all still robust enough to handle a Slayer hug.” Buffy took a deep breath and pushed ahead, “I had exactly two human. . . partners. . . the last time around. Both of whom I accidentally hurt at various stages of being intimate with them, and I was so careful.

“It’s exhausting, never being able to let go. . . you have to pay attention every single second of every single day not to hurt the normal human people around you. You can’t just turn it off when you aren’t using it.” Buffy stopped for a moment and balled her fists in her lap.

“When my mom died, a few years from now. . . she had this aneurysm that burst in her brain. I came home and found her, just lying on the couch, not moving and cold, staring at the ceiling. . . I was so upset. . . I-I just I-I was holding her. . . begging her to come back. Telling her that she wasn’t allowed to be dead.”

She swiped angrily at the tears running down her cheeks. “I was telling her that I was supposed to go first. . . that she couldn’t really be gone. I. . . I-I was so upset. I was holding her so tight I broke three of her fingers and a few ribs. . . Even after she was dead, I still managed to hurt her, Giles, and I didn’t mean too. And I’m so sorry. . . I didn’t get to tell her.”

Her voice broke, “What kind of monster am I that I still managed to hurt my dead mother?”

Giles felt like he'd been punched in the gut, shocked and blindsided by her sudden emotional outburst. No wonder the other Slayers had gravitated towards super-powered partners. If what Buffy was saying was accurate, it would be like a normal human trying not to crush a bird, a bug. “Buffy, while I have not hitherto thought about the ramifications of day to day life with Slayer powers at any length, I would like to point out that it is currently 1997. Mrs. Summers is still very much alive. Perhaps, although this hasn’t happened yet, you could. . . seek the forgiveness you so obviously desire while she still in this plane of existence?”

“Oh,” Buffy breathed, “Mom’s still alive here. She’s been dead five years for me. I don’t know if I can act. . .” She twisted the hem of Xander’s shirt between her fingers and studied it for a moment.

“Um, were you going to get to the part where you go ‘are you Buffy Summers’ and ask me some personal information only you and I know? ‘Cause I think I’ve just come up with a cool idea about how to tell my Mom I’m a Slayer and not get thrown into the loony bin again.”

“Sorry, again? You were institutionalized? When did this happen? Not while I was around?”

Buffy waved him off. “No, it was after Merrick died and I burned down Hemery’s gym to kill Lothos and his weird flying dweebs. I told Mom and Dad about everything. . . the vampires, monsters, my super strength, the Council, everything. They threw me in a mental institution. Then they kind of forgot about it, they let me out and we moved to Sunnydale.”

“That explains your reaction to me when we first met.”

“Yeah, I’d convinced myself it was all a hallucination, then you pop up with the Vampyre handbook and tell me it’s all real. It was a. . .”

“Shock?” Offered Giles.

“Nightmare is more like it, anyways, ask me the stuff, because we have a road trip to plan and my mother to confuse.”

“Er-r?” Giles looked adorably confused.

Giles? Adorable? Oh boy, where did that come from?

Giles cleared his throat. “Are you, in fact, Buffy Anne Summers?”

“Yes, Buffy Anne Summers, born January 19th, 1981.”

“And what was the date of your calling?”

“May 20th, 1996, after the death of Halena Simone in Paraguay, who was allegedly trying to destroy Kakistos after the murder of her Watcher Kenneth Abernathy.”

“Well,” Giles said, dusting imaginary lint off his knees “if you are a demon wearing my Slayer’s skin you’ve done your research remarkably well indeed. There is almost no one at the Council aware of my involvement with Ethan Rayne and certainly none that know the. . . er, intimate details of our experience with Egyhon.”

“So that’s it? You believe me?”

“I can’t think of any reason I shouldn’t. However, I reserve the right to grumble about the situation as I see fit.”

“I expected nothing less, Giles. Now. . . could you release me from the truth spell? I’ll try to tell the truth regardless, but being forced to isn’t my idea of a good weekend.” She smiled and winked cheekily, “A girl has to have some secrets.”

“Ah. . . of course, my dear, just let me. . .” He leaned over the spellbook to double check the wording and lit another match. “Let the truth be now unspoken.” He re-lit the smudge stick.

“Let the goddess rest unwoken.” The bundle flared enthusiastically to life.

“Let this spell be unwoven.” Giles dropped the flaming bundle into the bowl at his feet and sprinkled powdered gangal over the blazing assortment of smudge herbs.

“So mote it be.”

The fire flickered for a moment, then went out as if it had suddenly been smothered. Giles traced a finger through the charred remains of the herbs and touched Buffy’s forehead with a blackened finger. There was an atmosphere-sucking pop and Giles felt the magic dissipate back into whatever void it came from.

“Is it over? Can I lie again?”

Giles nodded and Buffy thought for a moment. “I find Principal Snyder the sexiest man on the planet,” she gagged out, then shuddered. “It’s gone! Okay, now we have to plan, Giles! There’s so much stuff to do!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  
> 
> Hi All!!
> 
> Thank you Embell again for all your tirelessly amazing work.
> 
> I'm back and like a day earlier than usual- ish!
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this one, I enjoyed writing it because drunk Joyce is the best Joyce- and I've never read a fic where Buffy introduces her mom to the nightlife in Sunnydale quite like this before.
> 
> Please note, I pick and choose from the comics whenever the mood takes me, my apologies if I’m confusing the bejesus out of anyone.
> 
> Thanks!!

They arrived at 1630 Revello Drive just at twilight. Buffy was nearly vibrating with fear and anxiety. Giles put a gentle, restraining hand on her shoulder and turned her towards him.

“We don’t have to do this now. We can wait if you want. It’s not imperative she know now. I’m sure we could figure out some way to achieve what you want without telling--”

 

“Buffy?”

Giles and Buffy jumped apart like guilty children.

“Mom! Hi! Have you--” Buffy started and trailed off again, awkwardly.

“Buffy, who is that man? Why is he dressed like a librarian?”

_That question was one I was not expecting_ , Buffy thought wryly.

“Ah, Mrs. Summers, if I may. . .”

Joyce’s scalding gaze flickered briefly towards Giles before dismissing him and settling again on Buffy.

“He’s the school librarian, Mom. He loves his job so much he dresses like that on the weekends too.” She tried for chipper and felt it fall flat. Giles looked faintly insulted.

“Why is here? Why was he touching you? Are you,” her voice dropped dangerously, “sleeping with him?  Is that where you’ve been? What’s going on? You weren’t at Willow’s!”

“Mrs. Summers--” Giles tried again.

“He’s  _English_!” She spat disgustedly.

_Wow, okay. Don’t hold back, Mom, tell us how you really feel._

Joyce continued, her voice growing tenser, “Is he one of those  _looker_  people that made you think you were some sort of monster-killer?”

“Mom, look, we’ll answer all your questions when we come inside. This is Mr. Rupert Giles, my new Watcher, sent by the Council entrusted with guiding Slayers. He’s also the Sunnydale High librarian. Giles, this is Joyce Summers, my mom and newest curator of Sunnydale’s art gallery.”

Joyce stared at the pair on her porch, her jaw agape.

“Mom, I know this is kind of a shock, but we have things to do. We need to get this part out of the way so we can move on to the other-not-so-great stuff.”

“There’s  _more_?” Joyce sounded dangerous again and more than a little hysterical. “This is because your father left, isn’t it? You needed a strong male influence so you’ve just latched onto Mr. Giles here to rebel against me.” She picked up speed, “Is it  _drugs_? It’s drugs, isn’t it?”

Buffy made calming motions with her arms and attempted to get a word in edgewise. “Mom, no! No drugs, and  _no_  sex with Giles--”

“Ah-ha! So you  _are_  having sex! Are you pregnant? You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Buffy grit her teeth, “Mom, no! Do you really want to have this conversation out here where Mrs. Kalish and the rest of neighborhood can hear us?”

Joyce scowled at the house across the street. The front curtain twitched closed under her glare. “Get inside. Both of you. Now.”

 

There was a sweating glass of wine on the breakfast bar, next to two conspicuously empty wine bottles. Buffy and Giles were pushed bodily onto stools by a now very obviously intoxicated Joyce. She scooped up the glass from the tabletop, clutched it to her chest and eyed them suspiciously, her cheeks flushed. “Talk,” she commanded.

“Mrs. Summers, I--er, I would like to assure you that my role in your daughter’s life is strictly a, a--an advisory one. I have been assigned by the Council to ah, watch over and guide your daughter, the Slayer, while she attends to her duties here on the Hellmouth. In a completely platonic and non-sexual capacity, ma’am.”

Joyce’s lips were pulled into a tight, thin, white line, barely restraining her anger. “And when will my daughter’s duties be complete, Mr. Giles?”

“Never, Mom. It’s never going to be over, for as long as I’m alive, bad things are going to try and take over and it’s my job to stop them.”

“Them what?”

“The things that go bump in the night -- vampires, zombies, the Mayor, miscellaneous demons that want to open the Hellmouth to bring about the end of life as we know it.”

“So you think you’re this thing, called a Slayer?”

Giles broke in, “She doesn’t just think. . . She is, Mrs. Summers, she is.”

“How does she stop?” Joyce took a shaky sip and clutched the glass again. “I forbid her from being this, this Slayer, anymore. She’s supposed to grow up, get married, have babies, and live to be an old crotchety grandmother. Normal. You can’t just send her out there to kill things by herself! She’s only a little girl!  _My_  little girl.” Her voice cracked, “What kind of man are you, that sends little girls out into the night to kill imaginary monsters? How does she stop?  _How does she stop_? _Please_?”

“Mrs. Summers--”

“I can’t stop, Mom. I’m so so sorry. I can never stop.” Buffy softly interrupted. “There will always be things after me, trying to kill me, just because of what I am. . . because of what I stand for. . . because I’m the one with the strength to stop them. Would you rather I let the world into hell every June? We wouldn’t be around very long to enjoy me not being the Slayer anymore.”

“Why can’t someone else do it?” Joyce pleaded. “Surely there must be other people with superpowers that can do the job. Just take your mystical forces and bestow them on someone else’s daughter. She’s the only one I have. . .”

Giles looked down and swallowed, then cleared his throat. He looked smaller under the weight of Joyce’s stare. “Er--I’m, I’m afraid that’s not how it works, ma’am. It’s--your daughter is a part of an ancient legacy, passed down from girl to girl. ‘Into every generation, a Slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. She is. . . the Slayer.’”

“Until last night.”

Joyce studied Buffy’s face, “What happened last night?”

“I fought the Master -- this very, very old vampire that a demon lord named Archaeus--”

Giles sucked in an audible breath and pulled out a notebook and pen from an unseen pocket.

“--turned him an absolutely incomprehensible amount of years ago.” She paused and stared down at her anxiously twisting hands. “And, uh, I killed him, but not before he drowned me. There was another girl called.”

“You died? But you’re here now. Are you a vampire now?” Joyce’s eyes were wide with fear and confusion and her forehead was furrowed.

“No, Mom.” Buffy smiled placatingly, “It takes a few days to reanimate a fledgling. I was dead for three minutes. Xander and Angel found me in my puddle and gave me CPR. Which,” her face hardening. “Side note, if you ever see a brown-haired man lurking around here, that is not specifically accompanied by me. . .  _do. . . not. . ._ under  _any_  circumstances invite him inside. Tell him to wait in the yard if he thinks it’s urgent. Don’t say anything to him with the connotation of welcoming him inside, including ‘get in here,’ ‘come inside,’ ‘please, come in,’ etc.

Unless it’s full sunshine outside and they’re standing directly in it. . . even then, only motion them over the threshold--and if they bounce off an invisible barrier where the door would be, lock the door and call one of us for help if we aren’t here. Barricade yourself in my room and grab a weapon.”

“I’ll invite whomever I want into  _my_  own house,  _thank you very much, young lady_.” Joyce narrowed her eyes, “Why are there weapons in your room? I thought we were past all this.”

“Mom, remember that blonde lady that you invited in? That attacked you? She was a vampire. . . they look like normal people. You can invite whoever you want to the house, just don’t verbally invite them in.” Buffy paused and tipped her head to the side, “Also, is there a guy named Ted hanging about yet?”

Joyce cocked an eyebrow and nodded once sharply.

“Don’t eat or drink anything he gives you. That way lies much badness.”

“But he seems so charming. . . I mean, he’s the first man that’s shown any sort of interest since--” Joyce paused and put down her glass. “Who are you to say who I date anyway?”

“Mom, he’s a homicidal robot. You can date almost anyone else, just not the murderous cyborg, ok? I feel like I should make some kind of questionnaire to vet everyone’s dates: ‘do you like sunlight, operate on electricity, plan to end the world, or plan on killing or harming me, my friends, or family?’”

Giles had a  _Seriously?_  look on his face. Buffy rolled her eyes and nodded. He went back to scribbling. Joyce’s eyes glazed in confusion. “So, there’s two Chosen Ones now? Don’t you get to retire?”

Buffy hopped down from the stool and began to pace around the kitchen as she talked, “That’s not how it works, Mom. I don’t just get let off the mystical gig because someone else has been called. She has her own demons to kill. Come on, Mom, I’m sure it’ll look less confusing after some coffee. Tea, Giles?”

He nodded and Buffy got three cups from the cupboard.

***

“Hang on,” Joyce said, shaking her head as the coffee started to work it’s magic, “did you say  _the_  Mayor?”

“Yeah, he wants to become a big snake demon. He’s, like, totally old, like over a hundred.”

Joyce nodded slowly. “I thought he was a bit strange. . . someone who smiled like that had to be evil.”

Buffy smiled into her cup.

***

“Buffy, this is ridiculous. Do I really need to wear this?” Joyce tugged at the cross-studded choker chain Buffy had pressed on her before the three had left the house. She sighed and adjusted her grip on the cross in her left hand and the plant mister of holy water in her right. “This is absolutely absurd, I mean, vampires, witches, snake demons, and robots, surely you aren’t--”  
She screamed suddenly and abruptly fell over, losing her grip on both mister and cross. Fortunately, the cross landed on the hand that had tripped her. Joyce watched in fascinated horror as the hand, poking through the dirt, recoiled and sizzled audibly. She scrambled upright and in a few minutes, the hand developed a shoulder, then a head. The fledgling turned its yellow eyes and ridged forehead on Joyce in interest.

“Mom,” Buffy said brightly, “you found the first vamp of the night. Good job!”

The vampire was still pulling itself out of its grave when Buffy gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Are you going to be finished any time tonight? I have other things to do, you know,” she informed him in a bored tone.

“Buffy, don’t be rude! The poor thing is trying to pull itself out of its grave. . . have some respect.”

“Mom!”

“Fanks, lady, you’re a real peash,” he lisped.

“See? Buffy, there’s no reason to be rude.”

The fledgling grinned around his fangs, “Yeah, you’re gonna be real delisioush when I kill you and play with your entrails.”

Joyce snatched the cross from the ground and brandished it at the still struggling fledge. “You--you--you. . .” She visibly grasped for a word that would adequately convey her indignation. “Ruffian!” She hit the fledgling over the head a few times with the cross savagely, then backed away, looking shocked at herself.

“Go, Mom! You tell that fledge whose boss!”

The still-sizzling vampire snarled, “Geez, lady. . . I was gonna make it quick.” He pushed out of the hole and rushed towards Joyce, who squealed, fell again, and scrambled back. “You smell so sweet, so ripe, I’m gonna wear your heart on my sleeve, literally. . . gonna pull it still beating out of your chest.”

“Is that before or after the entrails? I’m starting to get a bit confused about your list of things to do here, bud. Maybe you need a day planner or something.”

“Buffy, you don’t suppose it might be time to help your mother get away from the ravenous vampire? This demonstration seems to be. . . rather trying.”

“Oh, sure, now it’s my fault she stepped on a fresh grave.” Buffy darted forward and efficiently staked the fledgling, who had grabbed hold of Joyce’s tennis shoe and was dragging her towards him. She collapsed as the minion dusted and landed with a thump in the grass.

“Bu-Bu-Bu-Buffy? What was that? Why did that man explode? What was wrong with his face?”

“He was a vampire, Mom, like I’ve been trying to tell you for the last year and a half. Maybe you could believe me next time?”

Joyce groaned, “I think need more coffee.”

“Sorry, Mom, it’s gonna have to wait. We still have three more cemeteries to patrol.”

“And-and you do this every night? Patrol cemeteries for vampires? This still sounds ridiculous. I just. . . is it magic? Or facial prosthesis? A skin condition?” Joyce pushed herself upright.

“Most days I patrol cemeteries, other days I mix work and pleasure and weed out the vamps that think the Bronze is prime hunting territory. Ohh, skin condition!” Buffy snapped her fingers, “Remind me to go and find Clem. He’s gonna help me unbury my treasure. And my shiny ax. It was magic, yeah, but not like you’re thinking.”

Giles echoed, “Skin condition? Treasure? Ax?”

“Magic?” Joyce looked bewildered.

“The treasure -- that I have many, many plans for -- well, Clem is a Loose Skinned demon with his claws in soooo many pies in Sunnydale. Peaceable to the extreme, unless you’re a kitten. He feeds on emotions, but not like Succubi do, he just kinda absorbs it, maybe? It’s non-harmful, anyway. And my ax, well. . .” Buffy twirled her stake and sauntered further into Restfield’s gravestones. “It’s loaded with Slayer-making juice. Should be enough to put down the Mayor before he turns into a giant snake and also the hell god disguised as a hospital intern. Should make a pretty big dent anyway.”

“Dent?” said Joyce weakly, “It takes an ax to put a dent in the Mayor? Surely there must be another way. I mean, have you tried talking to him, nicely?”

“Do you want me to find another fledgling to nibble on you and you can talk him out of being hungry?” Buffy laughed. “Cause I could do it, there are so many, Mom.” She sobered, “Evil guys are like religious zealots, like the ones who blew up the--”  _God, that hasn’t happened yet_. Buffy clapped one hand to her mouth and gestured wildly with her stake. “The-the thing. . . the no good, very, very bad thing that was blown up. . . and everybody was outraged by.” She nodded emphatically at Giles and twisted the hair at the back of her head anxiously.

Giles stared blankly at her before she mouthed ‘ _future, remember_ ’ and furtively pointed at herself. His eyes widened, then he cleared his throat, “Er-yes, I believe Buffy may be referring to the spate of suicide bombings in Israel that were recently in the paper.”

“Oh my gosh, I had completely forgotten about those. . . those poor, poor people. But you’re really comparing the Mayor to a suicide bomber?”

“Mom, he plans on taking out the whole town with him and when he summons the snake and it’ll kill him too. So, yeah, Bad Bomber Guy.” Buffy mouthed ‘ _thank you_ ’ over Joyce’s shoulder.

“Oh-ok,” Joyce said shakily.

 

“Uh, guys? I have to do something bad real quick, but I assure you that I have very, very good reasons for it, I promise. In the aid of stopping evil and all that, yeah?” Buffy strolled up the disused path to the big crypt that dominated this corner of Restfield. She shook the locked door once and the hinge shattered.

“Uh, Buffy?”

“If it makes you feel any better, Giles, in a few months, a bunch of vamps would be doing this instead of me. We need to get rid of this thing before William the Bloody and Co. get into town. I don’t want to make unlife anymore interesting than it has to be for that bleached pain in the neck.”

Both adults stared after her, confused, as the tiny blonde girl disappeared into the thick darkness of the crypt she had just broken into. Giles began to ramble, “I wonder what significance this mausoleum has in Sunnydale’s history? Fascinating, look at the detailing on the marble inlay, truly marvelous. Joyce, have you seen the intricate craftsmanship on the--”

He was interrupted by Buffy’s reappearance. “Here you go, Watcher-man, a cross that doubles as a weapon for the discerning demonologist in all of us?” She tossed the golden filigree crucifix into Giles’ hands.

“A weapon, you say? Against more than just vampires, yes?”

Buffy reached over and turned the cross over in his hands, pulling out the hidden blade. She examined the blade in the light for him to see, then handed it back.

“Remarkable, I’ve never seen a-a religious object with a weapon concealed inside. Utterly extraordinary. . .” He trailed off, lost in speculation.

“Is he always like that?”

“Well,” said Buffy as they strolled along, Giles slowly bringing up the rear. “Sometimes he’s worse, much worse. But, give him shiny and interesting, and it keeps him off my back for a while and I get to do my job with no interruptions.” They continued in silence for a while until Buffy stopped to note a fresh grave with a person-shaped hole in the unsettled earth.

“Giles!” she yelled, “Mr. George Abrams has gone walkabout!” The two women watched as Giles hurried up to them, pulling out a small pocket watch, a notepad, a pen, and a small magnifying glass. He began poking at the fledge’s tracks and scribbling notes.

“The Watcher’s Council seems to think there’s a formula for predicting when a fledgling will rise. . . as far as I know, hundreds of years of work and study has produced the exact answer of ‘anywhere between two and four days after death.’ Occasionally you get week old fledges, but most of them think those cases are their Sires planting them in graves that aren’t theirs while the soil is still soft.”

“Their Sires? Like, horses?”

“Ah, not sure about horses. But pretty much, vamp finds human they like, they bite and drain them, but just before the person takes their last breath, the sire forces some of their own blood on them and the fledges reanimate a few days later. The amount of blood decides what type of vamp they’ll be when they rise. I stake ‘em and that makes their Sires very unhappy. You’d think they’d learn not to plant their fledges in Sunnydale proper. I mean, I’m out here every night, killing their spawn. At least act afraid guys, geez.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know it’s all really difficult to comprehend, Mom, but it’s better now than later, during an apocalypse. And, yeah, walking you into a cemetery at night was probably a little rough, but I need you to grasp the importance of what’s going on. If I don’t stake them, they multiply like tribbles and then try to take over the world and kill everyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

Buffy patted Joyce comfortingly on the arm. “One more cemetery to go, then we can head home.”

“Uh-huh.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, again guys!
> 
> What did you think? Did you enjoy it? 
> 
> Please let me know by leaving me a comment, I love hearing from you all sooooo much!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys! I've been on holidays.. then my husband gave me the flu.. good times all round :(  
> Up now, possibly some controversial ideas about Xander and Giles

“Willow, this is Willy. Willy, this is Willow. Willy, play nice -- I need some information.”  
Willow waved timidly at Willy, who looked confused and constipated by their presence in his bar.   
“Ah, hiya Willow? It’s very nice to have the Slayer and co. visiting their old pal Willy, right here in public, you know. Out where everyone can see the two, ah, underage dolls, in my bar? Tryin’ to get your old friend Willy in trouble, are ya?”  
“There’s a Loose-Skinned demon, name is Clem. Is he in town?”  
“Well, I mean, with Loose-Skinned demons, who can really tell, ha-ha, they all look the same, am I right? Red beady eyes, claws, droopy skin, strange ears, eats kittens. . . one’s just as good as another. I don’t see why you want him. What’s he done anyway? If he even was in town, which he isn’t. Definitely not. Never seen the guy in my life. Who were talkin’ about?”  
“He eats kittens?” whispered Willow. “That’s just. . . just. . . mean!”  
“Would you rather he ate humans?” Buffy hissed back.  
“Oh, no, I guess not. But still!”

Buffy passed Willy a packet of Bugles with a note taped face down on the front. “Clem hasn’t done anything. He isn’t in trouble -- none that I know of, anyway. I just need you to pass on that I’m looking for someone to do some work for me and I happen to think he’s the demon for the job. A job, with legal currency and everything. Can you give him this, and he can decide if he wants to talk to me? No slaying, I promise. I’m slay-free Buffy with the peaceful types from now on.”  
“When did this come about then?” Willy toyed with the bag, trying to surreptitiously see what the note said. Buffy raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly put it down.  
“Around the same time I died.”  
“And this was?”  
“Yesterday-ish -- I got better though, I wouldn’t worry about it. Will you pass that along, please?”  
“Yeah, Slayer, I’ll pass it along to Clem -- or someone that looks like Clem. Which could be any Loose-Skinned demon, because he isn’t even in town. Or even existing right now... Who?”  
Buffy rolled her eyes. The girls turned and walked away from the bar, Buffy pausing as she pulled open the door and calling out, “Bye, Clem!” She waved behind them and stepped out into the sunshine.

“Man, we have to include you in kitten poker night some time. Could make a bunch of litters out of you. You have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot.” Clem appeared from the back and moseyed over to the bar. “What did she bring me?”  
Willy tossed the bag of Bugles with the note taped to the front at him.  
“Ohh, my favorite!” Clem looked pleased, “This is really weird, you know, the Slayer asking demons for help.”  
Willy fidgeted, “Tell me about it, man. How did she know Bugles were your favorite? Do you think she has some kind of special Slayer-mind-reading-powers?”  
Clem unfolded the note and perused it. “I think you need a lay down. I’m tasting a lot of really strange anxiety from you right now and it’s making me feel weird, like drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth.” He shuddered, “Yetch.”  
“Maybe you’re right friend.” Willy drew a deep breath and sagged against the bar. “A nap sounds like a good idea.”  
“Man, you’re weird. . . even for a tight skin.” Clem shook his head slowly, his jowls shaking with it.  
“Amen to that, buddy!” Willy tugged at a cabinet door under the bar. It slid back with a scrape. He folded himself into the cubby. Clem could hear him try to get comfortable and he shook his head again. Tight skins. He’d never understand them.

***

“Ok, Willow, thing one done, time for thing two and three. I need you to find a bunch of people for me. Most important is these top three, here.” Buffy handed Willow a page of handwritten notes. “Then we can engage in some well-overdue girl talk. God, it feels like years since we had some proper down time.” Willow nodded and started to type away on her computer.  
Focusing on the screen, she hedged, “So, the next few years are busy then? L-l-like what happens, do I get a boyfriend?”  
Buffy bit her lip. “Yes, but it’s complicated. . . and I’m not sure if this is something you should find out for yourself or if it might make life easier for you if you know now.”  
Willow stopped typed and frowned up at Buffy. “How is it complicated? Like am I only attracted t-to midgets? I could deal with that. Or am I midget? Like, like a really tall midget. God, I’m not a midget, am I? What will my parents think? A-am I doomed to have tiny, tiny midget babies?”  
“Wow, Will, calm down! It has nothing to do with midgets. Like, at all. Midgets never even come -- came? -- into the equation. . . I mean, I’m starting to wonder if they should have, what with you carrying around all this, this midget-related anxiety for some reason. ‘Tiny, tiny midget babies?’” Buffy dropped into the chair next to Willow and elbowed her, “Besides, I’m pretty sure they all come out the same, uh, smallness? And I think they like to be called little people, midget isn’t, like, a nice word for them.” Buffy frowned and shook her head, “How did we even get here?”  
I, uh, had a nightmare, last night. Pretty much the worst.” Willow sheepishly turned back to the screen.  
“Uh-huh.” Buffy folded her hands in her lap and studied them. “Will, it’s just. . . think really hard about this, before you answer, do. . . do you think you could, maybe, feel the way you do about guys. . . about girls too?”  
“Oh. . .” Willow looked broadsided, staring vacantly past the computer. “Um, yeah, I guess,” she answered softly.

After a long moment, Buffy fidgeted in her seat. “Ah, Wills, you in there still? Did I break you?”  
Willow focused on the computer again and shook her head. “Um, so, how did everyone take it? I mean, I must have had a girlfriend at some point. . . so, so what were everyone’s reactions?”  
Buffy leaned over and enveloped Willow in a hug. “We didn’t see you any differently than we do now. . .” She smiled at Willow, who still looked lost. “Well, except Xander,” Buffy wrinkled her nose, “He was a little weird for a while, like asking your opinions on boobs and stuff. . . guh! Such a guy. But, there were no tears, no fights, no one was kicked out or excommunicated or anything. I think your mom thinks. . . thought? Tense are hard. That it was just a phase you were going through. . . but, it’s been like forever and you hadn’t decided against the whole liking girl parts and guy parts stuff, so I think she kind just got over it. Or forgot. You know what your mom is like. We all loved you just the same -- even Giles! Although, don’t tell him I told you this, I’m pretty sure he and Ethan -- who’s gonna turn up in a few months -- were like a thing back in the day.” Buffy wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.  
Willow blinked.  
“Like, he wasn’t angry-angry, he was jealous-scorned-love-angry. I didn’t say anything though. Ethan is definitely a bad guy -- don’t mess with him. We have plans for his destructive ass.”  
“Giles?!” Willow squeaked.  
“Oh, duh. . .” Buffy bumped herself in the forehead, “I totally forgot you were sweet on Giles. Which, now that I’m older. . . was older? Just over half his age, I mean, I can kinda see it. He’s attractive, in an. . . English librarian sort of way, if you’re into that kind of thing.” Buffy shook her head, “But he’s like a father to me, so blegh-erk-ick-nope, and that’s where that thought train ends.”  
Willow’s expression was glazed over.  
“Willow, you’re drooling!” Buffy accused.  
Willow, horrified, pawed at her face anxiously. She frowned when her fingers came back dry, “That wasn’t nice, Buffy!”  
Buffy held back a laugh, “How are you going to look him in the face if you keep imagining what I think you’re imagining.”  
Willow blushed so deeply her face matched her hair.  
“Oh. . . speaking of. . . you and Xander, you both need to sit down and tell each other how you really feel. Out loud, with words and stuff. Cause the whole pining thing, it doesn’t end well when you and he end up with dates and then suddenly decide to admit you both have the hots for each other. Mutual badness that way lies.”  
“What about Xander? Did he end up with someone?”  
“Kinda. She died -- which I’m totally gonna stop this time -- well, if she even comes to Sunnydale at all that is. Xander was never really right after her. I want everyone to have a real opportunity to be happy. There wasn’t a lot of it to go around last time. . . everything is going to be different.”  
“And you? Did you find someone?”  
Buffy’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Yeah. But, I, uh, waited too long to tell them and they didn’t believe me. Died too, twice. I want to stop that from happening. Even if it means they’re never mine this time.”  
“Oh, Buffy, I wish I could do something to help.”  
Buffy smiled sadly at her. “You’re listening, Will, and paying attention, and seriously, that’s the most I could ask for. You know I love you, right? I don’t think I ever really told you how much you mean to me, to your face. Just promise that you’ll do this, ask how you can help before jumping to conclusions and making decisions for me, okay?”  
Willow’s forehead furrowed, “About what? W-what did I do before?”  
“It’s. . . it’s hard to talk about it. Part of it, I don’t really want you to know. I don’t want to think about it, but it weighs on my conscience. Like, how will you know not to make the same mistakes if I don’t tell you about the consequences? But you shouldn’t carry the guilt for something you haven’t done.” Buffy looked torn. “I don’t want you to feel afraid of your power.”  
Willow blanched, “I-I think I need to know, Buffy. I don’t want to hurt anyone. . . especially you.”  
“Just, ask for help. If there’s something you don’t know, don’t make it up as you go along. It may be fine to do that on the internet or whatever,” she waved to the computer and Willow half-smiled, “but in the supernatural world, it opens you up to some really dark and powerful forces. They influence you subtly at first, whisper in your ear and then. . . it makes you do stupid and dangerous stuff, like doing spells on your friends without their permission and thinking that it’s what’s best for them.” Willow’s eyes were saucers. “I’m sorry, Wills, so much stuff went so horribly wrong last time. I don’t want magic to come between us. . . the magic fuel-y type stuff that hangs around in Sunnydale, it emanates from from the Hellmouth. It’s, it’s like drugs, really bad, addictive drugs. Always make sure you know where you’re pulling your magic from. Make sure it’s the right place.”  
“H-how do I do that? I mean, I don’t know anything about magic! I did magic drugs? That doesn’t sound like me. How do I not do that?” Willow looked frantic.   
“I’m going to see if I can get you the best mentors I’ve ever heard of, Wills, just do your best sponge impression with them. They’ll know how to make sure you don’t try to suck up Hellmouthy badness and understand the consequences of your magic.”  
Willow nodded and turned back to the computer screen and absorbed herself in a series of screens, clicking through them thoughtfully.  
“Oh! Will, remind me to talk to Giles about bolt holes. It’s really important. It should save us a lot of grief in the long run, even though it’s going to take some effort to get it set up just right. Do you want to come with me to see Clem and co when he calls back? I think you’d get a real kick out of it, most of the peaceful demons around Sunnydale are pretty cool.”  
“Yeah,” Willow smiled, “that’d be cool.”  
Buffy hugged her again, “I love you, Will. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you intentionally.”  
“I know, it’s just kinda hard, you know?”  
Buffy nodded and smiled. “But you think you’ve got it bad, I have to do senior year all over again!”

***

“Buffy, I’m all for helping you with all your Slayer stuff, it’s just -- why are we here? And why me, specifically? It’s the middle of the day and you have me schlepping a shovel, pickaxe, and buckets around Restfield.” Xander glanced furtively at the group of mourners that had been eyeing them suspiciously. “We look like crazy people!” He stage-whispered.  
“I’m looking for a specific crypt. There is. . . or will be, this huge space underneath it. It’ll be the perfect bolt hole.”  
“Bolt hole?”  
Buffy waved her hand apologetically, “Sorry, Giles-speak. Like a safe house. We didn’t have anything last time and it meant we ran around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to find somewhere to go to ground when there was a Big Bad breathing down our necks.” She grinned wryly, “Rather than my house needing six million repairs every time someone gets thrown through a window or door. . .”  
“Ok, so, good strategic move. Preempt the enemy. Uh, why do I need to be involved?”  
“Because, Xan, in my time, you found your calling too. You were really good at it. After Sunnydale, you started up your own business and everything! Post-Sunnydale it mostly revolved around what we’re going to lay the groundwork for now. . . safe rooms. Not just fancy high tech ones, supernatural-proof ones. You have this knack for it, like Will has with computers, this innate kind of,” Buffy waved her hands around, and wrinkled her nose, “stuff.  
“When you build things, you kind of impart your own brand of magic to them. You pour yourself into them and the whatever-it-is takes on supernatural properties tied to its intended use.   
“Like, last year -- well, in my time, that is -- you asked if you could borrow one of my axes to work on your grinding and sharpening skills. You said you liked to learn new things out of your comfort zone. So, I did what I you asked, gave you the ax. You brought it back three days later and, woah, it was sharp. Like, one of those knives on TV, that they show you can slice hair or a tomato or whatever. It barely rippled the air around it when it moved.  
“It was so sharp, I started to use it for every day patrolling. It was amazing. Then, about six months ago, in 2004, I realized I hadn’t needed to sharpen it since you’d given it to me. It was just as sharp as it was when you first gave it to me, like the year before. I took it to some of the New Council witches to try and find out what was going on.”

Buffy stopped. They’d finally made it -- she was home again. She sagged against the door to Spike’s crypt, then took a deep breath and began to work the rusty hinges of the outer door loose.   
She continued, “They said they hadn’t seen that kind of magic in centuries. They called it ‘an art that had been lost to the ravages of time.’ You’re amazing, Xand. You have a real gift. After that we went through our stuff to find things you had made or fixed for us. All of them had this little undercurrent of magic. It was so subtle even Willow hadn’t noticed, and she was all super magic girl too.   
The kind was dependent on what you saw the items use as. You built me this amazing trunk to keep my weapons in for my birthday. I’ve been thrown into that thing so many times I’ve lost count and it’s completely unblemished. Like, I know I trapped some guy’s hand on top of it with my sword, but there wasn’t a single gouge mark or anything. I’ve bled all over it to and no damage, not a stain.”  
“So I have mystical building powers,” Xander said slowly. “As superpowers go, that’s a little underwhelming. Why couldn’t I have gotten x-ray vision or something.”  
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Sure, make it all lame sounding. But seriously, you have the power to imbue ordinary objects with the magic of your intentions, just by working on them. ‘Art lost to the ravages of time’ -- you’re an artist. Or, you have the potential to be, anyway. Still, you have a reason, a calling, a purpose. . . how many people can say that, besides me?”  
The door groaned and finally opened, hinges still intact. Buffy set to work on the inner door -- this one had only a lock, and after a few tries, it broke under a well-placed Slayer kick.  
Xander put down the tools. “But, I’m not kick-ass superpowers guy. I don’t see how I can help? I mean, you and all your mystical strength makes me feel all impotent-man.”  
Buffy picked up the lock and handed it to Xander and she made her way inside the crypt. He turned the lock over and began to fidget with it, trying to reassemble it. A wave of painful nostalgia hit Buffy and she closed her eyes briefly.  
“You’re going to keep us all safe, Xander. The ones who can’t fight, can’t defend themselves, are injured. . . it’s your responsibility to keep them safe, just as much as it is mine. ‘Cept, you do it with a hammer and I use a stake.”  
Xander nodded solemnly, and tucked the broken lock into his pocket. “Right. So, Buff, what are we doing here?”  
“You aren’t squeamish, are you? We need to make two sigils on the door and two on the trapdoor in the floor. Blood magic is usually, bad, bad, bad, but when imparted to protect others it’s amazingly strong and neutral, as far as the whole good and bad magics go, fairly untraceable too. Well, unless you’re a vamp and do the gross sniffy thing. It’ll need to be refreshed about once a week for the first month, then once a month for a year. The magic takes a bit of time to permeate but once it’s done, not even scary Willow could break it.”  
“Uh,” Xander rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “how much blood are we talking, Buff? Cause I happen to like mine all on the inside.”  
“About a tablespoon this first time, less after that. It’ll be mixed with mine too, so there should be plenty. The rest of the gang will need to make a teeny donation too, but only once, so the sanctuary recognizes them.”  
Xander nodded slowly. “I guess I could be down with that. It’s not like I’m really going to have to recover from that and it’s for a good cause. . . keeping the weak and defenseless safe, right?”  
“Yep! You’re all Professional Protection-Man.” Buffy extracted a small metal crucible from her jacket pocket and put it on the sarcophagus -- where Spike had slept, she found herself unhelpfully remembering. She dropped in powdered gangal, followed by a handful of dirt from the crypt floor and motioned Xander to her side.  
“Crypt dirt?” he asked inquisitively.  
“The way you explained it, the magic needs a kind of path to follow, like a road map? So using dirt from this floor tells it that the magic needs to effect this specific area. Stops it from leaking into other things and stops it from being hijacked by someone else.” Buffy pulled a knife out of her boot and carefully cleaned it on her shirt. “This is really weird, by the way, usually it’s you doing the hocus pocus.”  
Xander raised an eyebrow.  
“What? Runage and magic are not my forte and I forgot to bring some alcohol for the knife,” Buffy retorted. She took a long, calming breath. “Ok. Ok.”  
“You aren’t exactly filling me with confidence there, Buff.”  
“Shut up, I got this.” She sucked in another long breath, then began:

“In Soteria’s name, we speak these words,  
That those who speak your name be heard.  
Conceal us here and blur their vision,  
That those who mean us harm, beget derision.  
Let no unprepared eye see,  
The secrets we entrust to thee.  
Guardians of the four directions,  
Hear me now, and lend protection.  
May these truth of earth and sky,  
Be hidden from the prying eye.  
So mote it be!”

Buffy drew her knife across the pad of their ring fingers and Xander hissed. After a minute of bloodletting, there was a subtle hum, and the tomb abruptly lapsed into silence. Buffy pulled her hand back and stuck her finger in her mouth, then motioned for Xander to do the same.  
He stuck his finger in his mouth and grimaced. “I don’t think I’d make a very good vampire. Why am I doing this anyway?”  
“Well, you said you wanted to keep all your blood on the inside,” she deadpanned. “Nah, it’s supposed to help it clot.” She held up her finger and inspected it. “It doesn’t take me very long to heal, want me to show you something cool?”  
He nodded.  
“Do you trust me?”  
He nodded again, slowly.  
“Gimme your finger.” Buffy pushed her cut over Xander’s, pressing down and reopening hers, forcing Slayer blood into his wound. Xander’s finger had been copiously bleeding, but immediately slowed to trickle before subsiding completely. After a few minutes, his cut looked hours old, rather than minutes.  
“Wow,” He murmured, mouth agape.  
“We figured it out by accident,” Buffy grinned. “Well, Willow did, because of my enhanced Slayer healing, I have a faster response to damage than normalish humans do -- my body rushes tons and tons of clotting and healing factor, things, to all my wounds, because bleeding, plus vampires, equals badness. Sometime after Sunnydale we found out that all Slayers are universal donors. And because of that, we could do stuff like this!” She looked down at Xander’s finger, the scab already nearly set.  
“This is as far as Slayer healing will get ya. It’s really just the top that’s healed, so don’t be rough with it or it’ll tear open.” She pulled sports tape out of another pocket and tore off a strip with her teeth. “It’s not really designed for wounds, but it keeps the edges together better than surgical tape. You can still use your hand without having to baby it.” She wrapped it expertly around his finger and he flexed it appreciatively.

Buffy looked around the room. The crypt still felt wrong, without him. And he wasn’t even in Sunnydale yet. And when he was, he was going to be drooling all over his skanky hobag sire, with his mind set on killing the Slayer.   
Well, she would see who had the last laugh. Rip off her head and drink from her brainstem? He would never know what hit him. She shook it off. It’s time to get to work.  
“Let’s do this, Xan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like it?  
> Please let me know!  
> This is the first of two chapters today, so don't miss chapter 10!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! last one until next fortnight, sorry again about the wait but hopefully these tide you over until then :)

“This is the last time we have to do this. . . until next week. But I promise it’s the first and only time we have to this part too, I mean, unless we decide that another one somewhere else might be a good idea.”  
Xander huffed and blew a hank of floppy hair out of his face. “But why does it hafta be blood? Why can’t it be spit, or tears, or something?”  
“We closed the Hellmouth with tears once, but it’s always about blood. Blood is life. Why do you think vamps need it? It’s what keeps you going. . . makes you warm. . . makes you, uhm, er, makes you other than dead. ‘Course its blood.”  
“Did someone say that? ‘Cause you said that like I should know. I’m not all ‘future girl’ like you.” Buffy smiled sadly at him and patted his shoulder.  
“A really smart vamp I used to know said that once. But, ah, he’s gone now. . . doesn’t stop it from being right though.”  
Xander looked at her incredulously, “Another vampire, Buffy? Really? Angel was bad enough--”  
“Yes, yes, Xan. I know you’re right, Angel really is bad news. Soul or no soul, he still manages to do horrible stuff no moral person could remotely consider good. In my time, he managed to start two apocalypses that I know about. Probably more I don’t know about. I’m not going near him ever again if it’s in my power to do so -- although it probably isn’t because he’s a sneaky, no-good asshole that wouldn’t understand truth if it hit him in the face.  
“And, I’ve already explained this to Giles, but you can’t paint every vamp with the same brush. There are different types, different. . . grades of vampires, kinda like milk, except not, because that would be weird.”  
Xander broke in, “But Buffy, what about--”  
“Jessie? Xan, Darla turned him just to hurt you, and that’s what it did, right? It colors everything thing you see in the supernatural community. It’s not black or white. . . it’s really, really annoying shades of grey. Like this Loose Skinned demon Willow and I are going to see, his name’s Clem, and his favorite snack is bugles. He likes playing kit--er. . . poker, and binge watches soap operas and Star Trek. He goes on vacation to see his folks in Cleveland and tons of really other human stuff: pays taxes, goes to work, owns his house and business, mows the lawn--ohh, and comics! He loves comics. He’s really cool and you and he got along like a house on fire in my time. Giles even likes. . . liked him.”  
“But, Jessie, he was--just not. . .”  
Buffy nodded. “Darla turned him into a grenade. There are these different types of vamps. It depends on how well they’re made. Turn them on the tiniest amount of blood and you get a grenade, like 1% milk. They’re just blind torpedoes. . . push them in the direction you want and watch them nuke everything. A little more blood, like a 2% milk, and you get a minion. They’re smart enough to do complex tasks, but they’re nothing more than worker ants. Childer are different. Childer are turned on massive amounts of blood, like a really good quality full cream milk. . . this analogy just keeps getting stranger.” Buffy frowned, then shook her head. “Those fledges though, they keep most of who they were before being turned -- they just don’t really have any remorse or empathy for humans. Darla, Luke, and Angel. . . they’re all childer. Darla was turned by the Master because he liked how much of a stone-cold bitch she was. I don’t know much about Luke, but did you know Darla was a prostitute before she was turned? The Master found her dying of syphilis. . . skanky hobag.”  
Xander snorted and Buffy elbowed him gently. “What was Angelus like?”  
“You mean Liam O’Connor?”  
He nodded quickly.  
“Likes them young, our Liam does. He was a drunk, bigoted asshole, a whoring layabout, a cheat and thief, borderline pedophile and probably a rapist. Yeah, he was a good one. He would have probably died of syphilis eventually if Darla hadn’t turned him. Being a vamp let him show his maniacal sadist-side. He loved. . . loves, the bloodiest types of torture, manipulation and mind games, coercion, the works. It was always there inside of him, he was just released from the constraints of society and finally had the power to act on those thoughts without fear of being punished.” Buffy tipped her head to one side thoughtfully, “You should call him Liam, or. . . or Peaches, I think he’d love that.” She grinned.  
Xander rubbed his hands together in glee, then looked around. “So, uh, what do I need to do?”  
“We need to take ownership of the sanctuary. It would be difficult for someone to take it off us because our blood is currently the thing doing all the magic, but it’s possible. This last bit is kinda like a fingerprint scanner -- it’s very cool. Just repeat after me and when we get to the ‘so mote it be’ part, you need to nick your thumb and press your hand against the door handle, like you’re going to open the door. It’ll get really hot, then you’ll feel like a pinch on your thumb and the doorknob will cool down. If the ownership spell works, you should be able to open the door and step through, no problems.”  
“And, uh, if I do it wrong?”  
“I think you bounce off the threshold, like vamps do. I’ve never seen it not work though, not for the people who created the sanctuary. We aren’t sure how, but Andrew managed to mess it up with the Cleveland panic room. He was so confident, he broke his nose when he bounced off the barrier.” She snickered.  
“Who?”  
“Uh. . . Tucker’s brother?”  
“Oh, Andrew.”  
Buffy burst into giggles again. After a moment she composed herself. “Ok, let’s do this. Do you know what you’re doing?”  
“Uh, repeat after you, cut my thumb and hold onto the door while it burns off my hand? Then hope I can walk through the door when the handle goes cold.”  
“It’s not going to be quite so bad, you big baby. Ready?”  
Xander nodded tersely.  
“Ok, here goes:

“Soteria, goddess, hear our plea,  
Let no ill wishers take from thee,”

“Soteria, goddess, hear our plea,  
Let no ill wishers take from thee,”

“We ask for shelter and your preservation,  
Bestow on us our enemies deflection.”

“We ask for shelter and your preservation,  
Bestow on us our enemies deflection.”

“Protect us from this insurrection,  
Give us now this place of protection.”

“Protect us from this insurrection,  
Give us now this place of protection.”

“So mote it be!”

“So mote it be!” Xander nicked his right thumb and grabbed the doorknob with a tentative hand. He shut his eyes and tucked his head into his shoulder, as though it might not hurt as much if he wasn’t looking.  
The handle glowed cherry red for a moment and he let loose a very unmanly yelp and muttered, “It pinches.” to himself. The handle faded rapidly from red to dark brown and a fine layer of what looked like ice covered the handle. Xander took a deep breath and turned the handle, then bowed his head and curled back in on himself, like it would keep him from hurting himself if he bounced off.  
“Oh, thank god,” he sighed as he crossed the threshold without incident. Buffy smiled and poked at the barrier with her finger. It had the consistency of jelly and she probably could have pushed through but she didn’t -- it would only disturb the magic and make it harder for her complete her part in the ownership ritual. Xander grinned and poked his finger through the barrier, tapping Buffy’s palm where it rested.  
“Hey! Ow!” She jumped as an electric shock coursed through her.  
“Wow! What was that? This is so cool.” Xander was bouncing like an excited puppy.  
“Deterrent from something pulling you over the threshold and doing nasty things to you, I guess. I never really got an opportunity to try it because I was always one of the ones out fighting.”  
“So it’s kidnap-proof?”  
“Not quite. . .I think if you exit under your own steam, you’ll probably be unprotected. But it does keep everything without a hall pass on the outside.” She frowned, “Well, we aren’t sure about explosives yet though, we should probably test it sometime. Come out, Xan, I’ll do my bit and then we can leave.”

***

“NOO!” Buffy woke gasping for air. She felt like she’d just lost a knockdown-dragout fight with Glory. Oh god, I need to do something about her. . . But Dawn? She could still see Giles’ macabre face and glowing white eyes following her from the darkness of her dream.  
Buffy scrambled up and felt around for the phone. It rang several times, then was picked up by a very prickly Giles.  
“Hello, this is Rupert speaking. Who the bloody hell may I ask is calling at this god-awful time of night?”  
“Giles, it’s me. Remember that time I talked about your friends from college?”  
“Er--yes, I rather do. What’s that got to do with anything? It was a very long time ago. Why are we talking about it at three am?”  
“I’ve just remembered, the reason you all split? It’s coming back. But maybe you can save a couple of them if you warn them in time? Only you and Rayne were left last time. . . I don’t think it’s going to wait six months to turn up this time. I just had an honest-to-goodness Slayer dream.”  
“How did you. . . we?”  
“It jumped from Jenny to Angel and Angel’s demon put it down. Do you think we can make it so I don’t need tattoo removal this time? Could we summon it on purpose? Then we would at least know where it is. . .”  
“It, uh, it got into Jenny? How was she still alive, let alone. . . God, what have I done?” His voice broke and Buffy could hear him fighting tears with short, sharp breaths. This wasn’t helping her calm down. Giles, emoting? Clearly Eyghon was a bigger deal than he had made it seem last time.   
She took a deep breath and said gently, “Relax, Giles, we’ll get it figured out. Just another day on the Hellmouth, right? You get on the phone and warn your friends. We might have a safe house set up here that they can hide in if we can’t figure this out in time. In fact, I’ll drop by and reinforce it some more on my way over, I’m too wired to sleep after that dream. I’m sure there are some unlucky fledges out there just looking to meet the pointy end of my stake. I’ll be over in an hour, ok? Oh, remind me, Xander and I need to get you, Willow, and Mom access to the safehouse soon.”  
“I, er--” He took a deep breath, “I rather think I won’t be going back to bed either. Very well, I’ll see you in an hour.”  
“Bye Giles, see you soon.”

***

Three fledges and a very unlucky Fyarl demon later, Buffy arrived at Giles’ door, knocked and waited patiently for him to answer.  
He answered a minute later, with the phone crooked between his ear and shoulder and pointed Buffy in the direction of the breakfast bar, where a massive mug of caramel-colored coffee goodness sat steaming.  
Buffy moaned into her cup and Giles raised an eyebrow at her. She mouthed, thank you, at him and he nodded, turned and went back to his call. Buffy slid down from her stool after a few sips and grabbed one of the many legal pads that dotted Giles’ apartment and a pen and started to jot down a rough timeline.

Master rising  
Frakenmoster + Cordelia  
William the Bloody + Back to School night  
Museum Mummy Girl  
Frat Snake/Delta Kappa ??? + Cordelia  
Ethan + Halloween  
Billy Fordham + W.t.B + Lonely Hearts Club???  
Ethan + Ripper + Eyghon  
Takara + Career Week + Kendra arrives?  
Ted  
Mind control eggs  
Ethan + Ripper + band candy -- Mayor  
Oz -- werewolfism  
W.t.B kidnap Angel + W.t.B paralyzed/Drusilla fixed  
.  
.  
.  
Buffy birthday surprise -- Angelus  
.  
.  
.  
W.t.B truce

That was all she could remember for now. That was as far as she wanted to remember now. God, there was so much to do. At least she wouldn’t have to sneak around this time. Mom knew -- or, more accurately, had seen herself.  
Buffy started slightly when she realized Giles was leaning over her shoulder to read the list.  
“Ethan and Cordelia seem to feature quite heavily in the next few. . . erm, incidents.”  
Buffy looked up and tapped her pen on her notes. “Yeah, it’s not just Xander that’s a magnet for wrongness -- did you manage to get ahold of any of your, uh, friends?”   
Giles rubbed his temples and took of his glasses. “I’ve managed to contact Thomas and Philip. Deidre is currently hiking in the Pyrenees and will be uncontactable for the next few weeks. I’m undecided about what to do about Ethan, however.”  
Buffy dropped the pen and twisted around in her chair to face Giles. “He managed just fine last time” She shrugged, “He’s just out there, causing chaos as far as I know. He’ll probably blow through SunnyD in a month or three regardless. It was all very. . .” She raised her eyebrow, “scorned lover vibe, last time.”  
Giles’ eyes bulged and he produced a handkerchief from his pocket and he began to furiously polish his glasses.  
“He seemed very upset with you. . .”  
Giles coughed and tried to hide the panic on his face.  
Buffy held back a laugh, “Relax, Giles. I’m technically in my twenties -- went to college for awhile too, I’m not really that shocked. You’re only human after all. Besides, you’ve never walked in on Willow having a threesome with an interdimensional green snake-witch and one of my Slayers.” She shuddered, “That was was wayyy above Best Friend pay grade.”  
Giles froze, mid-polish. “Two oth--?” He choked.  
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Get a grip, Giles. My point is that I’m not scandalized or disturbed or whatever weird reason you don’t want me to know about your apparently twisty, dark, and debauched past. Did you leave a message for Deirdre so she knows what’s going on?”  
Giles felt whiplashed. “Er, yes, I’ve managed to leave a message with the company she employed as her guide, and one on her personal phone also.”  
“Wicked,” she nodded. “Since you’re still up, do you think you could help me with these documents for Clem?”  
Giles looked apprehensive. “And Clem is the. . .?”  
“Loose Skinned demon. He makes fluffy bunnies seem like ferocious monsters in comparison.”  
“But what does it eat?” He asked, guardedly.  
Buffy rolled her eyes, “He absorbs emotions -- non-harmfully too. In fact, I think there was a study where human populations benefited from having groups of Loose Skinned demons in their communities. . . It might not have been written yet. He could live on absorbed emotions but he also likes tons of snack food -- bugles, beer, etc. . . and, ah. . .” She whispered, “kittens.”  
“I’m sorry, did you say kittens?” Giles looked flabbergasted.  
“Yes?” She said meekly.  
Giles began cleaning his glasses again. “Well, uh, I suppose other human cultures don’t see any problems with eating dogs and cats. . . it’s just the idea of eating kittens for some reason. . . it rankles. . . then again, veal is the very same concept, I expect. We just don’t see them as cute, really” He massaged his temples and looked at Buffy wearily. “Very well, what documents do you need help with?”  
Buffy handed the sheaf over. “I think I’ve filled them out correctly, but could you just proof-read it for me?”  
Giles smiled and returned his glasses to his nose. “Of course, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks! Please leave me a comment and I'll finally get my ass into gear and answer all your comments :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Ladies and Gents, this one is a little early because I'm going to be away on holiday this coming week! Work is making us take time off so we figured we would take the opportunity and run with it and take an impromptu holiday.
> 
> The idea about Giles came from a series of books that I read when I was younger, which no matter how hard I try I can't remember the name of the series. If anyone knows can you tell me? It's bugging me like crazy.
> 
> Thanks go to my absolutely stunning Beta Embell and to Axell who prodds me when I need prodding :)
> 
>  
> 
> klop: In yiddish, a loud bang or wallop (German klopfen = "to knock")

Clem waited anxiously at the Alibi Room for the Slayer and her little red-headed friend. He’d taken a booth at the back, away from watchful eyes. No sense in making trouble. There was a pile of shredded napkins on the table -- he was on his fourth. If nothing else, he could blow the scraps in the Slayer’s face and run away while she was dazed.  
He twirled his straw and picked an ice cube out his glass and nervously chewed on it. Oh, he couldn’t do that. He slumped dejectedly. He was a lover, not a fighter.

Buffy swept in the bar, followed meekly by Willow, who looked confused but fascinated. The Slayer scanned the row of booths, her eyes landing on another Loose Skinned demon for a moment before dismissing him and catching sight of Clem, tucked in the back.   
“Clem!” Buffy chirped, sticking her hand out to shake his claw before sliding into the booth across from him and waving a hesitant Willow into the booth with them. “Clem, this is Willow. Willow, this is Clem. Clem, I’m Buffy,” she frowned, “But, I guess you knew that already.” She smiled and waited for someone to say something.  
“Guh! Clem isn’t going to bite and Willow isn’t going to do. . . whatever you think she might do.” She raised an eyebrow at them both. “Fine,” she sighed, “down to business then.”  
She handed Clem a stack of paperwork and looked away politely as he rifled through it. “Wow,” said Clem hesitantly. “You weren’t kidding about being serious and motivated. How did you get the county to give you permission to dig up that piece of land?”  
Buffy shrugged. “No one was using it, and it’s out in the middle of the forest. And, well,” she wrinkled her nose, “the whole local government is very, very corrupt. . . no one cares. They even gave me mineral rights just to get me out of the office and away from their ‘evil, evil’ plans.” She drew exaggerated air quotes and Clem broke out into a toothy grin.  
“Ok, Slayer, say I accept your proposal. What are your terms? We don’t have a lot of human guys on the work crew, but I could probably borrow some from LA if you needed--”  
Buffy interrupted him with a shake of her head. “First, I’m here in my non-official capacity, so please, call me Buffy. Second, I don’t care who’s on the work crew, as long as they’re fairly non-hostile and don’t actively add to the continuing crime wave that is the basis of Sunnyd’s vibrant economy.”  
Clem pulled a pen out from his skin folds and began to take notes. “Well,” he said, “That makes my job much easier. We can use one of the golems--”  
“NO WAY?” Buffy stage-whispered, her eyes lighting up. “You guys have golems? What kind? Can I come see?” She sat back and took a breath and smoothed her shirt. “I. . . ah, mean, if that’s ok? Golems are way cool! I had no idea there were any in Sunnydale -- California even!” She nudged Willow, whose eyes were the size of saucers.  
“L-like Hebrew ones? Humanoid man-of-clay type ones? They exist? Oh wow, I mean, I just. . .” Willow looked genuinely flabbergasted.  
“I’d be happy for you girls to come and have a look around our offices and meet a few of the guys -- Mr. Klop included.”  
Willow frowned. “His name is Mr. Bang?”  
Clem laughed, “Yeah, he was in demolition back when he was first fired. He’s been very, very useful. Works twenty-four hours a day, never sleeps, only wants one day off a month. Model employee if I ever hired one. He is a bit literal, though, so you have to be careful. Can’t tell him to make candles -- he’ll make candles until you’ve run out of materials and then go out looking for more. Gets expensive that way.”  
Buffy and Willow nodded avidly.

“Were there any other terms?”  
Buffy tapped her fingers on the table. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m offering you and your guys a ten percent bonus on top of your normal rates as an incentive. It’ll come from whatever we find down there.” She smiled sweetly, “But the bonus is dependent on you and your guys keeping their mouths shut until the contents are sold. It should only take a few months after the tools get down there to have your bonuses in hand. It should end up being a nice little nest egg for your guys and you, of course. No matter what happens, you’ll still get paid what you’re owed, the only thing that is contingent is the bonus.”  
Clem thought hard for a moment, then tilted his head a little. “You know what’s down there, don’t you?”  
Buffy nodded. “It's not dangerous. If everything goes well, I’ll have some follow up work for your crew too. It won’t be nearly as lucrative as this contract, but it’ll make history. You’d be able to add artifact retrieval to all the other feathers in your cap.”  
Clem pursed his lips. “So, only the bonus is dependant on our confidentiality? We still all get paid what we’re owed, even if rumor of whatever down there gets in circulation?”   
Buffy scrunched up her nose. “I’d really rather it didn’t, but you guys are the ones doing the work. Of course, I’ll pay you for any work done. You guys aren’t second class citizens just because you’re demons. . . and golem.”  
“Nice to hear you think that, Sla--Buffy.” Clem took a sip from his water and leaned back. “So, from what I can see, you’re going to need. . . an excavation crew, facilities for cartage, confined space work permits. . .” He flicked through the rest of the paperwork. “You already have dig permits and approval from the county. You have a rough contract setting out the stipulations for receiving the bonus. We’ll probably need some security -- I think I can probably get one of the local witches to slap up a perimeter alarm or something. They do stuff like this for us every so often. I don’t think they’d have any problems with this site. I’ll get some quotes from them. You guys are on summer break or something right now, aren’t you?”  
The girls nodded.  
“Gimmie, say forty-eight hours. We’ll meet at my office and you can take a tour, meet everyone and I’ll have the estimates ready.”  
Buffy rubbed her hands together. “That would be awesome, thanks, Clem.”  
He nodded and got up to leave.

“Oh, uh, Clem, do you know of any construction work slated to start on or under UCLA Sunnydale?”  
“Hmm,” he answered, “there were some rumbling that something was going to be built there, but I don’t think the permits have gone through. I’ll look into it if you like? It’s not close enough to cause us any problems, though.”  
Buffy put her hand over Clem’s clawed one solemnly. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I had a dream--I think the government is looking to go all Dr. Frankenstein on Sunnydale’s demon population.” She scratched her head with her opposite hand, “If you, er, had any friends who don’t have any qualms about breaking things -- not people -- I think they’d be very interested in knowing the group’s intentions. I mean, machinery breakdowns can be very expensive, if you, uh, understand me. Maybe if there was someone who looked human, but wasn’t quite human, involved? I’m sure they’d be on board once they saw what is being planned and could help make sure that the project didn’t get finished. . . that maybe it would be best if they were to get pulled out of Sunnydale entirely?”  
Clem scooped up the paperwork, along with his notes and tipped an imaginary hat at her. “Thanks, Buffy, I think I know a guy who might be able to do something about that.”  
Willow and Buffy scooted out of the booth as well. “I never doubted it. Look forward to hearing from you and seeing your crew soon!”  
Clem sauntered towards Willy’s back exit and waved as the pair stepped into the sunshine. They waved back. The door had barely shut when Willow exploded with excitement and nerves. “He was so nice! But he had all little red eyes and spikey teeth and he was all floppy, but so normal! If I closed my eyes and listened to the conversation I would never have guess he wasn’t human! He was so. . . so. . . An-and they have a golem! His name means Mr. Bang and he demolishes things!! I just!”  
Willow was about to hyperventilate. Buffy looked around and grinned. “C’mon Wills, let’s get you a donut. Take a breath.” Willow still looked overwhelmed but she nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into Mr. Donut.

***

“Buffy, why on earth are we all wandering around a cemetery in the middle of the day?”  
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Because, Giles, Xander and I need to give you guys your invites so you can come here and hide safely, in case anything bad happens and I’m not around. It’s easier if we do it all at once and it’s a good idea to get to know this area of the cemetery because we might be using it as a base of operations when the next few Big Bads show up. I’d recommend getting copies of your really important books and stashing them here, in case the school blows up like last time.”  
Joyce sighed, “Buffy, what is it about you that makes you destroy public property? I certainly wasn’t like that when I was younger. . . I don’t know where you get it from, I honestly don’t.”  
Buffy waved her hand. “If you’re that worried about it, I’ll let the snake monster eat the whole town next time.”  
Joyce rolled her eyes. “Sure, make the destruction of Sunnydale my fault, now,” she snorted.

“Ok,” Buffy announced as she came to a stop in from of the crypt, “we’re here!” The group stood still for a moment. “Can you guys see it?” She pointed at the crypt. Giles took off his glasses and tilted his head, cleaning them out of what appeared to be sheer habit.  
“Why can’t they see it, Buffy? It’s like right there in fro--” Buffy put her hand on Xander’s shoulder.  
“Shh. Just wait. I wanna see if Giles can work it out.”  
Giles tried to concentrate on what was in front of him, only to have his gaze shift off to the side so he was staring at the grass. He tried again, with the same result. Slowly he turned so he was parallel with the crypt and angled his head so he could just see it out of the corner of his eye, then put his glasses back on.  
“It doesn’t look like anything to me,” said Joyce. Willow was irritatedly staring at the grass next to the crypt. “There isn’t anything there!” She said frustratedly, “why are we all just standing here?”  
Buffy and Xander smiled. “Just a sec, Will, I think Giles has it.”  
Giles broke into a big grin. “That’s fabulous,” he said animatedly, still facing away from the other four, talking in the wrong direction. “Absolutely amazing, and from two novices! I’ve never seen anything so seamless before. If you two hadn’t been staring, I would have walked right past it and would’ve never stopped.” He turned back and faced the group. “That’s a wonderfully powerful deflection charm. I’ve never seen one this good before. You say you and Xander did this? Astonishing, truly.” He seemed delightedly lost for words.  
“What is he talking about? There isn’t anything there!” said an increasingly annoyed Joyce.  
“Show them, Giles?”  
Giles’ eyes sparkled at the new teaching opportunity. “Ok, Willow, Mrs. Summers. Please turn about ninety degrees, in opposite directions, if you please. Facing away from each other.” Once they had, he continued. “Alright, I want you to focus on a spot directly out in front of you -- Joyce, your best spot might be that stone cross and, Willow, that--er, cherub. Now let your gaze settle there.” He waited about a minute. “Now, without shifting your focus, or your eyes away from that focus point, what can you see from over near where Buffy and Xander are standing?”  
The two women were quiet for a moment longer. “It’s--it’s a crypt. . . with a dark brown door. . . why does it shimmer like that? Like it’s not really there?” Joyce asked.   
“Turn around now, and look at it dead-on.”   
Joyce turned and frowned in confusion. “Has that been there this whole time?”  
Buffy and Xander nodded.  
“Once you’ve seen it, the charm loses its effectiveness, like wearing a glamor when you know who it is. Er, not that you’d know, I’d suppose.” Giles smiled.  
Willow was still staring intently at the stone cherub. “Oh!” she said, like she’d been pinched in the butt, jumping a little. “It’s got wrought iron fence-y stuff around the outer door! I can see it!” She turned and marveled. “Wow! I totally wouldn’t have picked that. That’s so cool. . . can I make one?”  
Buffy paled. “Uh, maybe wait for your tutors to get here? Magic like this is liable to get a little. . .”  
“Problematic,” finished Giles. “Buffy has over a year of experience in this, in her time anyway. She knows what the repercussions of her actions could be. You’ve not had any training yet. I’m eager to see what you’re capable of without the Hellmouth’s influence.”  
Willow deflated a bit but nodded.  
“Cheer up, Will,” said Xander, “from what I’ve heard you ended up becoming one wicked awesome witchy-lady kicking-ass and taking names. We just want to make sure you do it right.”  
She nodded again and smiled. “Ok, so what supplies do we need to put together?” sliding happily into organized-Willow-mode.   
Buffy snorted. “Let’s get you inside first. I’ve got a bit of a list and you guys can add to it as well. I think there’s electricity in here. . . we should be able to put in one or two CCTV cameras outside that we can monitor. Oh, and like a tv or something! We’ll see.” She rubbed her hands together. “Ok, you wanna do the honors, Xan?”  
Xander’s face split into his best big goofy grin and took center stage. “Ok, so this is a little icky, but Buffy and I will do our thing then you guys need to nick your thumb and grab the door handle, like you’re going to open it. When you do, say ‘In Soteria’s name, hear our plea, grant us entry and safety from our enemy, so mote it be.’” He scrunched up his nose. “It doesn’t rhyme as nicely as the first one. The handle will get hot, pinch your thumb, then go ice cold. Once it’s cold, you should be able to open the door and walk through. Be careful though, apparently Andrew broke his nose in Cleveland because he didn’t do it properly.”  
“Who?” asked Joyce.  
“Tucker’s brother,” he answered.  
“Oh, ok,” she said, apparently satisfied with that answer.  
“Then, once you three have your invitations, the Buffster and I will close the invitation and we can make interior decoration plans.” Xander clapped his hands together, “Let’s do this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys! I hope you all enjoyed! If anyone knows the name of the series I was talking about please tell me, otherwise please leave a comment! You guys are awesome. Your guys comments are one of my most favorite things!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Ladies and gents, apologies for forgetting what week it is.
> 
> Thanks go as always to my radiant beta Embell
> 
> I hope you guys like this one, the scoobies gain another ally and some wrongs get on their way to being righted. The news story might be a little troubling to read(Dana), if that kind of thing upsets you, please skip the text in italics at the end of the chapter.

“Why do you have oxygen bottles and gas masks on the list for the crypt?”

The Scoobies were sitting around Giles’ living room, trying to think of things that might be useful, while Giles was making lists of ‘essential books’ he needed and loading them into boxes to take to the school to copy.

“There was an incident,” Buffy said, her face tightening. “A group of vamps set fire to the house a safe room was in. Would have been fine, except, the fire sucked the oxygen out of the room. . . suffocated everyone in there. They were all completely untouched when we found them, not singed or anything.” She tilted her head thoughtfully, “We also need enough bedding for. . . ten people, just to be safe, I think. Otherwise we’ll have to sleep in shifts. Enough food and water for ten people, for a month. We’ve never had a siege longer than that. Facilities for washing and bulk medical supplies -- I’m talking morphine, antibiotics, the whole hog. We’ll corner off a little bit of the downstairs for triage and have all our medical stuffy ready to go. Giles, if you could find someone to get us those types of medical supplies that would be great.”

Giles looked up and nodded, making a note on a separate pad.

“Everyone is going to get first aid and trauma training. It’s something we should have all learned last time. I’m still not sure how we all survived without it.” Buffy wrinkled her nose, “Oh, and hand-to-hand combat. We just never got around to it. We have three months of down time before we all go back to school -- I wanna get the crypt stocked before then, just to be safe.”

Buffy continued to jot things down on her legal pad. “And I want to get everyone equipped to handle anything, or well, most things. Just in case I’m not here for some reason.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Xander, “I have a project for you, Xan.”

Xander brightened and stopped twirling his pencil. “What can the Xan-man do for the Buffster?”

Buffy gave him a feral grin. “Weapons. C’mon guys, time for a trip to the mall.”

Giles put down the book he had been perusing and started towards his keys.

“Giles, I think we can handle this one by ourselves if you want to keep working on your. . .” Buffy raised an eyebrow at the growing pile of books covering Giles’ dining room table, “ _essential_  book list. We shouldn’t need an adult where we’re going.” She grinned again, “or maybe we do. Onward, Xan, to the toy store!”

A delighted grin spread over Xander’s face and he raced out of Giles’ apartment after Buffy, who waved goodbye cheerfully, Willow trailing along behind her. The trio had just rounded the corner of the courtyard when Buffy saw Ms. Calendar.

Jenny wrung her hands anxiously, dithering on the sidewalk. Buffy stopped and put a comforting hand on her arm and Jenny looked down at her. “He’ll understand, you know. It’s not like he was completely honest with you when you both first met either. He’ll forgive you for whatever you think needs forgiving. . . he’s good like that.”

Jenny nodded tightly.

“Are you on board?” The older woman smiled and nodded again.

“Cool, I’ll let Giles fill you in on everything and we’ll be back in an hour or so. I can answer any questions you have left.” Buffy squeezed her arm again and waved goodbye, ushering the other two along with her.

 

***

 

“But, Buffy, why wouldn’t you let me get the big one?” Xander whined on the way back to Giles’ apartment.

“Firstly, it looked stupid. Second, it would be stupid heavy to carry around with you once it’s full. Third, it’s supposed to be discrete, like Willow’s...stupid.”  she stuck her tongue out at him and she pointed and Willow waved hers and grinned.

“They’re supposed to be the last line of defense, Xan. We don’t want to advertise we have them. They need to be easy to hide. Even if you made some back-holder-thingy it’s way too big to pull out quickly and would just break into a million pieces the first time you got thrown into tombstone. Xan, stop!”

Xander froze, his hand on Giles’s door, ready to burst in like usual. Buffy shook her head and pushed him aside, then knocked loudly and waited for the door to open. After a minute, Giles cracked opened the door, his forehead furrowed in confusion when he saw the three of them waiting on his stoop. He opened the door the rest of the way and stood to the side as they filed in.

“Why on earth did you knock?” He asked, bewildered.

Buffy made eye contact with him, then pointedly looked at Jenny sitting on the couch. Giles pulled Buffy aside as Xander and Willow flopped onto the couch. “Uh,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “did you?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. I just got an eyeful of Olivia wandering around in your shirt once and I’ve decided I’d rather not repeat that. . . whole. . . experience, if that’s at all possible.” She smiled. “I also couldn’t remember how long you and Jenny have been seeing each other -- whether or not you are. . .” Buffy wiggled her eyebrows. “I decided to err on the side of caution, just in case.”

Giles’s face was flushed and he was intently polishing his glasses, studiously not making eye contact. “Er. . . thank you, I think. . .”

 _Oh, poor Giles. I think he’s having major problems reconciling me to sixteen year old Buffy._  The pair turned back, in time for Giles to see Xander happily brandishing his new water gun. “Oh,” Giles said, “that makes much more sense than anything else I could think of.”

Buffy settled herself on the floor and picked up her notepad again. Xander turned the TV, and lowered the volume, then sat on the couch. “Ms. Calendar, would you have any idea how we could make the water in these,” she raised her own water gun, “holy water, if we fill them straight from the tap?”

Jenny reached for the plastic toy and examined it thoughtfully.

“We have a few of them if you want to pull it apart and we can always get more. I think the Wicca in the other timeline put something Latin-y inside, like on the water tank? But I have no idea how or what.”

 

“You’re really from the future,” Jenny asked and Buffy nodded. “Tell me something then, anything you think of, something frivolous.”

Buffy squinted at the ceiling. “Oh, you aren’t going to believe this one, but Martha Stewart gets jailed for fraud and  _Friends_ ends.”

Jenny’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh, you’re right. I never would have expected either of those. That’s a shame, I like  _Friends_.” She turned the water gun over in her hands speculatively.

“How much did Giles tell you?”

Jenny put the water gun on the coffee table and folded her hands together. “Enough. For me to believe him, anyway. I think there’s a lot more that he hasn’t said. I don’t know if I want to.”

Buffy nodded and looked down at her list. “Let me know if you can think of anything that might help. We need to take you to Restfield and get your invite to our safe room. . . crypt. Do you think would be able to help stock it? We need enough of everything for about ten people. This is what I’ve got so far.” She showed Jenny the legal pad.

“I think I can help with that. Have you started a list of spell components?”

Buffy smiled up at her and passed her another notepad and a pen. “That would be awesome. I have no idea about any of that stuff.”

The group fell quiet, all intent on their own tasks, the television softly droning in the background.

_Now, a horrific story from Seattle. A thirty-three year old man has been detained on a range of criminal charges in Washington, after being observed leaving a dilapidated bottling factory on Seattle’s eastside, thanks to an anonymous tip placed earlier this week. Mr. Kindell allegedly kidnapped and sexually assaulted a ten year old girl who was found chained, in a cage in the basement of the building, with a leather collar around her neck, a source inside Seattle PD confirms._

_Dana DiAngelo has been missing for the past five years, according to her parents, who say that they have lodged sixteen missing persons reports in that time, only to be told that there is no record of this. The Washington Superintendent is investigating the missing reports._

_Chief of Police, Norman Stamper, stated he was “horrified at this oversight and would be launching a separate investigation immediately.” He described Mr. Walter Kindell as a “remorseless monster, with no regard for human life.” He went on to say that: “‘evil begins when you begin to treat people as things.’”*_

_Mr. Kindell was arrested on Tuesday inside the Best Western in Pioneer Square and has been formally charged with kidnapping, torture, and criminal tresspasses against a child, including multiple rapes of a child in the first degree, twenty-five counts of making and distributing child pornography and fifteen counts of directing the sexual performance of a child._

_KRCR will continue to update this story as new information develops._

 

“Giles,” Buffy said, her voice gravelly as she shakily motioned to the TV. Giles dropped the book he had been leafing through and walked into the living room. On the TV screen, Walter Kindell was being bundled into the back of a Seattle PD Crusier. He dropped next to her, holding her hand tightly and enveloping her in a very un-Giles-like hug.

“Giles, th-they found Dana.” She turned her face into his shoulder. “They found her, thank you.” Buffy dissolved into tears on his shoulder, shaking with the intensity of her relief and grief. Giles pet her head and held her close. “She’s safe now.”

  
* Terry Pratchett,  _I Shall Wear Midnight_ , 2010.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short one this week guys, Please tell me about how much this displeased you in the comments tongue
> 
> Thanks All!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Ladies, gentlemen and everything in-between welcome to chapter thirteen!  
> Thanks as always go to my AMAZING beta Embell.  
> I hope you enjoy!

“Hi, Mom!” Buffy said as she slid onto a stool and propped her elbows up on the kitchen island in Revello Drive. “Need help with anything?”  
Joyce raised an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”  
Something flickered over Buffy’s face but it vanished before Joyce could be sure of what she saw. Buffy grinned widely, “Seriously, do you need help with dinner or something? I mean, I can’t cook, but I can chop with the best of them.” She smiled again, this time more naturally and Joyce felt a little trickle of some unexplainable sensation in the back of her head. Joyce pushed it down in favor of unsolicited help and pushed the cutting board towards Buffy.  
“So, uh,” Joyce mentally crossed her fingers and toes, then forged onward, “any boys that tickle your fancy at school, honey?”  
Buffy blushed and ducked her head, suddenly intent on chopping the vegetables.   
“Buffy?”  
“Well,” she hedged, “there is this one guy. . .” Her voice trailed off and her smile faded.  
“Oh, honey, does he not like you back?”   
Buffy shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “No, he doesn’t. He hates me actually, or at least, he thinks he does and he also has an older girlfriend who’s kinda crazy. So, I think I”m just gonna leave it alone for a bit and see how it goes this t--” Buffy caught herself and finished quickly, “this week.”  
Joyce smiled and ruffled Buffy’s hair as she protested half-heartedly. “Good for you, honey. Keep away from him. I’m sure he’ll come to his senses eventually. Does he know how you feel?”  
Buffy shook her head again. “He’s out of town. . . not sure when exactly he and his hoebag girlfriend are coming back.”  
“Buffy!” Joyce reprimanded, sounding scandalized.   
“What? It’s true! She treats him like dirt and has s--uh, plays checkers with other people, but he still follows her around like a lost puppy trying to win her affection.”  
Joyce stroked the back of Buffy’s head consolingly.  
“Men are buttheads,” Buffy muttered.  
The older woman nodded in agreement. “Never has a truer word been spoken, honey.” Joyce nudged Buffy with her elbow and moved across the kitchen to put some water on the stove to boil.

“So, Mom, how’s work going? Has Karen asked out that appraiser-guy yet?”  
Joyce’s eyebrows furrowed. “When did I mention that?”  
Buffy’s mouth went dry and she groped around for the words to smooth over her mistake. “Well,” she said as airily as she could manage, “you must have said something. . . why would I know about it otherwise? Must have picked it up while you were on the phone. . . or something?” Buffy smiled encouragingly and Joyce shook her head.  
“Yeah, you must have. . . um, can you dice those onions, please?”  
Buffy nodded. “So, what are we eating at Chez Summers tonight?”  
Joyce turned and stared pensively into the fridge. “Uhh. . .” she studied the contents uncertainly, “Fettuccine carbonara with mushrooms, bacon, chicken, and zucchini. . .?” Joyce pulled a sad-looking zucchini and a package of wrinkled mushrooms out of the fridge, followed by a better looking chicken breast and half a pound of bacon. She placed everything on the counter and reached for the cream, eggs, and parmesan from the door shelf. “There,” she said, “I think that’s--oh, and fettuccine.” She grabbed a battered pasta box out of the cupboard and smiled at the counter, resplendent with ingredients.  
“Right,” Buffy chirped, “One fettuccine refrigerator special coming right up!”  
Joyce rolled her eyes and began separating the ingredients by their cooking order. “Really, Buffy?”  
Buffy looked up at Joyce with doe eyes and stuck a julienned slice of zucchini in her mouth and nodded decisively, “Mm-hm.”  
***  
Joyce added the parmesan, cream, eggs, and a dash of salt and pepper to a small bowl, then whipped them together. Buffy had been curiously silent for most of the past twenty minutes, moving around the kitchen morosely and fidgeting constantly. Joyce added the cooked pasta to the chicken and veggies in the pan and poured the carbonara over the whole thing and turned off the heat. “Buffy,” she asked without turning, “can you get me--”  
She stopped as two deep plates appeared next to her elbow, followed by the sound of the drawers opening and closing. Joyce turned to the bacon as forks and spoons appeared next, then glasses of water, and the jar of parmesan.   
“Where are we eating, Mom? In here or in the dining room?” Buffy asked, followed a whisper Joyce wasn’t quite sure heard, “I can never remember.”  
Joyce frowned. “Here is fine, sweetheart.” She watched Buffy quickly set places for both of them on the island. “Wow, I guess you weren’t joking about having super powers,” she teased.  
Buffy forced a laugh and scratched the back of her head apprehensively. She hadn’t meant to go all Supergirl setting the table, but she was so used to moving at Slayer speed when taking care of Dawn and co. she hadn’t noticed. “Yeah, remember when Giles and I came over? Told you about all the bitey things that go “ggrr arrg” in the night?”  
Joyce’s frown deepened. “And you’re a superhero,” she finished doubtfully.  
Buffy motioned towards the stools. “Yeah, I guess. I, uh, I just thought maybe you were ok with it, but I guess I can try and pretend I’m all normal again if it makes you uncomfortable or anything. . .”  
Joyce stopped and looked at her daughter, studied her properly for the first time in a long time. She looked too vulnerable, so sad. Her eyes were decades ahead of her age. She looked so profoundly tired. What had she missed in Buffy’s life, stuck in denial?  
“Look,” Buffy tried to school her features into casual indifference, “I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t mention it again. Let’s just have dinner, ok?” She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, and placed the now-full plates at their settings. Joyce pulled up a stool. Buffy sat down beside her, her shoulders slumping slightly as retreated into herself.  
Joyce’s hand grasped Buffy’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Wh-what’s happened to you?”  
Buffy forced a smile onto her face and turned to face her mother. “Nothing that matters, Mom. Just enjoy dinner,” she paused, “But, uh, just don’t invite a brown haired guy with sad eyes and big forehead into our house, ok? He’s dangerous.”  
Joyce nodded and the pair turned to their supper. Nothing but the gentle scrape of cutlery broke the silence that fell over the meal. Buffy cleared the table quietly when they finished and Joyce got up to help Buffy wash the dishes.  
“Did you, ah, want to watch a movie before bed, honey?” She offered, laying a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. Buffy flinched.  
“I’ve got stuff to do, Mom, whether you believe in it or not. There are bad guys that need killing and I’ve gotta go do it, because no one else will.” Buffy wiped her hands on the towel by the sink, then turned resolutely and headed out the front door, grabbing a bag in the foyer without looking back.  
Joyce sighed. Okay, so tonight hadn’t gone the way she hoped it would. She turned back to the kitchen and picked up the phone, then began to dial. “Yes? Hello, I was just wondering if you could help me. . .”  
***  
She wasn’t going to cry.  
She wasn’t.  
Damn it, she was going to cry.

A hot tear escaped and trickled miserably down her cheek, leaving a damp line from her cheek to jaw to throat, before rolling between her breasts and leaving a wet spot in her bra that itched. She scratched and frowned. It wasn’t fair that she could still feel like this.  
She was an adult, damn it! With a credit card, and health insurance, and, and. . . no, she wasn’t. She was an adult, living in a minor’s body, stuck repeating the same life over again for no reason she could discern.   
. . She’d have to do high school again. . . possibly even watch her mom die, again, if she couldn’t figure out a way to stop that too.

Abruptly there was a familiar tingling on the periphery of her senses -- at least those had stayed as developed as they had been in the future. She need bump up her training so she could do all the fancy footwork she used to be able to dance through. It was a serious bummer to try a move only to pull a muscle or trip because her center of balance was off.  
“Angel,” she said icily. “Why are you following me?”  
The Gelled Avenger stepped out from the tree line, conveniently within skulking distance. He tipped his head to one side, aiming puppy dog eyes at Buffy. She felt her stomach turn. Gross. She dug deep for any trace of her former sickly-sweet school-girl crush. Nup. Nada. Buffy wondered when it had finally gone away: she knew there had been some tiny bit present when she had shown up in LA for the battle that ended in dragon fire for her and Spike both. But now that it was gone? It was like it had never existed.   
How had that night on her seventeenth birthday really gone? Had he. . . ? She shuddered and pushed the thought away. It hadn’t happened yet and if Buffy had her way, it never would.

“Buffy,” Angel breathed, his voice breathy and syrupy sweet as it interrupted her thoughts. “You seemed upset. I didn’t want to disturb you, but you’re wandering around a cemetery at night. . . I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” He chided her.  
Oh god, he always did that. How on earth had she managed to put up with it before? She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Thanks for your concern, Angelus.”  
He visibly flinched at the name.   
“I’d rather you stalk me where I can keep an eye on you, or better yet, you could not stalk me at all. Just. . . I dunno, toss out a ‘hey Buffy, here’s this week’s portent of doom’ then fade all the way back to your apartment and brood from there. I don’t need you to be my big broody shadow, I can handle myself. Case and point,” she hefted a stake and sent it whistling past Angel’s right ear and into a vamp that had been sneaking up on the pair.  
Buffy surveyed Angel coldly. He looked dumbfounded. She smiled to herself: she’d never managed to get his face to look quite like that before. Angel picked his jaw up off the floor and stuttered a non-apology, then informed her that he would come back when she was in a better mood. Buffy rubbed her temples. That guy really didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.  
Yeah, he was a real nice guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this fortnight unfortunately!  
> Please let me know what you thought down in the comments!  
> Thanks guys!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  
> 
> Okie-dokie Ladies and gents!! here is the next one! It's a bit of fluff while we gear up for the small revelation in the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks to my superhuman beta Embel for getting this back to me in record time, while she was moving into her new house!! Thank you!!

Giles’ flat was dark when she turned up around eleven. He isn’t asleep already, is he? Silly Watcher, don’t you know the night is for hunting?  
She knocked once. Silence.  
She knocked again, still no answer. Weird. She felt herself deflate. Maybe she should just sneak in through her bedroom window -- at least she wouldn’t have to listen to another round of ‘Why, Buffy? Why?’  
She could always spend the night in Spike’s crypt -- there weren’t any beds or anything yet, but she’d slept on worse before-- usually you had Spike as a pillow though, her brain reminded her unhelpfully. Ugh. She slung her bag back over her shoulder and started back home. She was going to try to be an adult about this. Besides, if her mom kicked her out again, she could either find her AWOL Watcher or try to sneak into Willow’s room to crash on her floor for a few hours.   
Should she just rip off the bandaid now and tell her mom about the future too? She might as well go the whole hog and. . . mix some more metaphors, apparently. Joyce might even try to get her committed again, which would be all kinds of sucky, but she was the Slayer and she wasn’t going to go quietly this time. She smiled with grim satisfaction. They’d have to tranquilize her or something -- Oh, Oz. . . She shook the thought away. Problem for not right now.  
As far as she knew, she was still in fairly good standing with the Council. If worse really did come to worst, she could probably appeal directly to them and have herself removed from Joyce’s care. Buffy cringed. Don’t go nuclear just yet. That was above and beyond the worst case scenario. Sure, if she had to, she could, but it would destroy her -- and Joyce too.  
But without her, there wouldn’t be anyone else able to guard the hellmouth while she twiddled her thumbs in a padded room. It was way too dangerous for her friends to try on their own yet: Willow didn’t have her witchy powers to fall back on yet, and Xander hadn’t had his faux military training either. Giles was. . . well, Giles. He could have been a wickedly good mage if not for the influence of Ethan and the subsequent dumbing-down of his power through the Devon coven. Maybe Willow’s mentor could help him too. . . Buffy was pretty sure Giles was just afraid of going off the deep end again.   
Buffy looked up. She’d made it to Revello Drive on auto-pilot. She tiredly climbed the steps to the front door, her hand automatically twisting the handle when she froze. There were voices coming from inside: indistinguishable, but definitely a higher pitched female voice -- her mom, she hoped -- and a lower, masculine voice as well.   
Surely her mother wouldn’t have invited Angel in so soon. . . not after she’d told her not to? Well, she guessed she had gotten her stubbornness from someone. . .  
Buffy squared her shoulders and pushed the door open, striding purposefully into the living room, following the voices. “Angel, I told you to leave me and my family alon--” Her voice trailed off and she stopped, supremely confused by the scene in front of her. “Giles? What the what?”

Giles and Joyce were on the far side of the living room, stacks of Watcher’s journals spread across the coffee table and stacked on the floor. They looked up, startled by Buffy’s entrance. The annoying tingle she had subconsciously followed home slunk off into the distance. Serves him right. He must have been sitting in the tree; she hadn’t bothered to check it when she had arrived. Well, now I know.  
Joyce looked up at Buffy, her red-rimmed eyes watering. “Sweety, why didn’t you tell me?”  
Buffy fidgeted and Joyce’s gaze dropped again to the journal on her lap, her forehead furrowed.  
“Well,” Buffy said hesitantly, “between the yelling, the screaming, the whole having-me-committed, the divorce, the drinking, and the disbelief you made abundantly clear before I left for patrol. . . I was under the impression you didn’t want to know.”  
Joyce wrung her hands, “Well, you put it like that--”  
Buffy dropped her bag in the hall and perched herself anxiously on the couch, looking ready to bolt. “Yeah. . .” Buffy finished awkwardly for her. She glanced sideways at Giles, anxious to change the subject. “Did you send that list to the Council?”  
Giles nodded mutely, then rubbed the palm of his hand across his mouth before asking, “There were really that many?”  
Buffy bit the inside of her cheek. “We had 1,800 Slayers at last count, Giles. Even if the Council knew about only a sixth of them, that’d still be, like, 300 girls -- all of them in the sole care of male bachelors between the ages of 25-60, and both cut off from any kind of support system or practical accountability. The potential for abuse is horrific. . . you wouldn’t put a regular teacher in that situation.”  
Giles had removed his glasses and chewed thoughtfully on the earpiece. “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”  
Buffy and Joyce looked at him blankly, mirror images of each other. Giles sighed and put on his glasses -- apparently the patented Buffy-look was genetic. “It means, ‘who watches the watchers’ or, more literally, ‘who will guard the guards, themselves?’” He bent to retrieve a journal, clearly not expecting an answer.  
“The Guardians do,” Buffy responded automatically.  
“Er--” Giles looked thrown. “The who?”  
“The Guardians watch the Watchers.”  
“B-but, I’ve never heard of them before.” Giles frowned deeply, whipping off his glasses, visibly unsettled at his lack of information.  
“You wouldn’t -- you aren’t supposed to. I’m not even really supposed to know, but,” Buffy wrinkled her nose, “end of the world, yada yada yada, you know how it goes. Maybe I should go and see her.”  
Giles had paled and his forehead looked clammy. “The Guardians who watch the Watchers watch the Watcher here in Sunnydale?”  
Buffy squinted for a moment, trying to untangle the sentence, then nodded firmly, “Yes. They’ve watched the Slayer and the Watchers since the very beginning. They were the ones who rescued Sineya from herself after the Shadow Men -- and the village she was made to protect -- shunned her and cast her out into the wastes.”  
Giles was agitatedly looking for a pen and paper, alternately patting his pockets and looking under the journals scattered around the room. “But you say that as if you know? How could you possibly have that level of information?”  
“We don’t just have Slayer dreams about apocali. Some of them are ‘Slayer eyes only,’ like to help us understand our calling, our nature, the power inside of us. . . how to control it.” Buffy walked over to the roll away desk Joyce used for paying bills and sending letters, fishing out a pen and notepad, and handing both to Giles, who looked profoundly relieved. He started scribbling animatedly.  
Joyce looked apprehensive. “Giles, uh, says you’re from the future.”   
Well, the bandaid is off now. . . Buffy winced, “He said that? I, well. . . I was going to tell you tonight but, uh. . .”  
Joyce moved closer towards Buffy, a wry look flashing across her face, “But then I stuck my foot in it and scared you away.”  
“Well, I mean, I’m not a wild animal or anything, but yeah. That. . . happened.”  
Joyce fidgeted. “Honey, I”m just. . .” she sighed, “I’m so, so sorry. What your father and I did to you--it’s unforgivable, and I’m sorry. I don’t think I can say it enough.”  
Buffy gave a watery smile, “Well, that definitely went better this time than it did in the other time.”  
“Oh honey,” Joyce looked stricken, “what did I do?”  
Buffy dropped onto the floor beside her Mom. “If you really want to know I’ll talk to you about it later, once we have everything else under control.”  
She nodded, then asked, “How far?”  
“Uh, 2004.” Buffy looked nervously at her hands.  
Joyce studied Buffy for a long moment. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”  
Buffy blanched, but didn’t answer.  
“That’s why you kept looking at me so strangely while we were making dinner. I died in your future.”  
“I--I just came home and you were gone. . . I’m so sorry, Mom, I should have done something, b-but I just didn’t know.”

Giles began gathering an armful of things from around the room, and cleared his throat quietly. “I should be going. I’m sure you ladies have much to talk about.”   
“Thank you so much, Giles,” Buffy stood up and hugged him, “this means so. . . just, thanks, really.”  
The Brit nodded stoically and awkwardly patted Buffy on the head with his free arm. “I’ll be off,” he said, a catch in his voice. “Thank you for having me.”  
There was the jingle of keys, the front door closing, and then Giles was gone.

Buffy sat again, the pair falling silent for several minutes.   
“So, who really is that boy you’re interested in?” Joyce finally asked, making Buffy snort, and they both relaxed.  
“That was nowhere near the question I thought you were going to ask.” She smiled sadly for a moment, “but seriously, Mom, I’m not going to be able to ever give you grandkids. It’d be too dangerous.” Buffy hugged herself, “Besides, I’m not sure I could, even if I wanted to.”  
Joyce leaned forward and pulled Buffy into her arms. “Honey, I’m sorry. It’s just that. . . this isn’t what I wanted for you.”  
Buffy scrunched up her nose. “It’s not really what I wanted for me either, but I’ve had eight-ish years to come to terms with it. It’s strange being back here again. . . all this stuff, it’s been such a non-issue and now. . .” She gripped Joyce’s hands tightly, “But it’s much, much easier this time. Knowing what I do, it makes things more bearable this go-round, even if it is really, really weird.”  
“Is slaying usually like this?” Joyce wondered aloud.  
Buffy snorted again. “Usually less with the dying-and-time-travel and more with the general ookiness. Like there were, or will be, I guess, these eggs that everyone gets for health class and they ended up being from this mind control demon that latched onto everyone’s heads and turned them into happy pod people while digging up the basement at the school. Xander and I were the only ones that didn’t get brainwashed. Xan boiled his egg because he was hungry and I woke up when mine hatched and stabbed it with some scissors.”  
Joyce blinked and shook her head. Buffy suddenly frowned.   
“What’s wrong, honey?”  
She grimaced, “I have to talk to Xander about his crush on me. Last time he just kinda hung on hoping I’d eventually run out of people I was interested in or something and try him next. I didn’t ever feel that way about him and I’m not ever going to -- I’m not sure how much more clearly I can get my point across without getting very specific about being. . . intimate with a normal human. Plus, he’s also like eight years younger than me now, and that’s kinda icky.”  
“Normal human?”  
Buffy blushed, “Uh, yeah, so I kinda have super strength all the time. I can’t just turn it off when I’m not using it. . . so, uh, it’s, um, really unsatisfying and there’s a big potential for me to hurt the other person on accident.”   
Joyce’s face flushed and her eyes widened. “Oh.”  
Buffy held back a laugh at her mother’s discomfort and tried not to smile. “Yeah, oh.”  
Joyce cleared her throat, “So the boy you were talking about?”  
“Not human, no.” She bumped Joyce’s shoulder gently, “Sorry, still no hope on the grandbaby front there, Mom.”  
Joyce squinted irritatedly at Buffy, annoyed at being caught again. “Do you ever get to retire? You’re what, twenty-four? Surely someone else could have taken it over by then.”  
Buffy grimaced, “You don’t retire from slaying, Mom. You go crazy or it kills you. I’m still dealing with all the mental trauma from everything in 2004. I’ve never gotten the chance to work through it all because there’s never enough downtime. Everyone is always getting themselves kidnapped; someone’s always trying to end the world. I’m going to try and do it right this time, by myself and everyone else.”  
Joyce raised an eyebrow and gave Buffy a hard look. “Buffy, are you going to tell me about this boy you keep being so evasive about or am I going to have to tickle it out of you?”  
Buffy’s mouth hung open and she looked askance. “Mom! No way!” She scrambled away, “I’m not five anymore! You can’t just. . .” She squealed and tried to get away, then wriggling away from Joyce, held her hands up in surrender, her arms still protectively clamped to her sides. “Fine! Fine! I’ll tell you, but it’s not pretty.”  
Joyce’s eyes softened and she leaned against the couch cushions.  
“But, I love him. Where should I start?”  
The older woman smiled gently, “Let’s try at the beginning?”

Buffy told her everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleaaasse let me know what you guys thought!
> 
> I just love reading all your guys comments and I will hopefully be replying to all the ones I missed very very soon. Much apologies for that one!
> 
> I love you all and have an amazing new year!
> 
>  
> 
> (Please comment)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  
> 
> Hi All!
> 
> Long time no see huh?
> 
> I'm so sorry I've been absent. Some truly awful stuff happened over the new year and its made finding the enthusiasm to write this fic pretty difficult.
> 
> on the upside, there are maybe 6 or so chapters before Spike makes an appearance.
> 
> There are tonnes of interesting stuff to happen before that so hopefully you aren't too put out by the lack of Spike.
> 
> Also many thanks to Twinkles for her amazing beta work!

 

“Xander, I need to talk to you.” 

Xander looked up at her from where he had been whittling stakes with an infinitely hopeful expression on his face. “Yeah? What can I do for the Buffster?”

Her gut twisted uncomfortably. “Can you come here for a sec?” Willow watched, not even attempting to hide her jealousy.  _ So much to fix, so little time. . . _

She sighed and ushered Xander into Giles’s kitchen. “Hey, Giles, are you doing anything incredibly important in here right now?”  
He looked up, “Er, no, I was just finishing up making a cup of tea.”

Buffy smiled. “It’s nice to know that some things never change. Do you mind if Xander and I have a moment in the kitchen? I need to talk to him about something.” 

Giles nodded, putting away his tea things, and taking the pot with him into the living room, ready to settle into his desk chair for some ‘light’ research.

 

Xander jumped up onto the kitchen counter and searched Buffy’s face eagerly. 

“Xander--” she started hesitantly and immediately his face fell. He slid off the counter and got in her personal space, grabbing at her hands.

“What’s happened?” he asked earnestly.

Buffy pushed his hands away and took a step back, out of range again from his grabbyness. “It’s about you and me. . . I can’t. We’d both end up getting hurt and not in a fun way. I don’t even feel that way about you, Xan. Brother, best friend, yes. Boyfriend, lover? No, definitely not. I do not, under any circumstances, want to be romantically involved with you.”

He scratched his head, unsure. “Look, Buffy, I know being the Slayer obviously makes dating difficult and stuff, but I just  _ know _ we’d be really good together--”

_ Excellent. Someone else telling me what I should want. _ She frowned. “Xan,” she said tiredly, “No. Not once in the whole eight years that I’ve known you -- and him -- have I ever once felt the desire to date you. Even less since the Hyena you don’t remember and then next year, you try to cast a love spell to get Co--uh,  _ someone _ , not me, back, and it had every girl and woman in Sunnydale chasing after you. Including my mom, also, and not in a fun way, either.”

Xander had gone very pale.

A feeling of dread began gnawing at the base of her stomach. Her voice dropped. “You remember. . . don’t you?”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. He looked like he was about to be sick.

“Eight years, Xander! You  _ and _ future-Xander lied to me for eight years! Neither of you ever bothered coming clean about it. I can’t believe you. . . him! Now do you have any idea why I  _ can’t _ and  _ won’t  _ date you?” Her nails left crescent indentations on her palms and she willed herself not to hit him. “I had two nice,  _ normal _ human boyfriends, the last time around. Know what happened to them, Xan?” She stalked towards him. Xander trembled and backed into the kitchen counter where Buffy was cornering him. She  _ prowled  _ toward him with a predator's grace he’d never seen before and Xander was suddenly intimately, viscerally aware he’d pissed off someone that could bench press him without breaking a sweat and break him in half when she was done. “I can’t just turn off Slayer strength when I’m not using it, Xan.” There was a hard, sharp sound to her voice.

“The first one, we were getting all hot and heavy, ya know? Clothes off type-of-thing, and do you know what happened at second base? Huh, no? Well, let me tell you.” Buffy loomed over him, despite his greater height. “Well, you know, I was enjoying myself, like  _ really _ enjoying it. Then I came and it was  _ really _ great, but I broke his fingers in two places. He broke up with me because I was too strong for him. Well, that and he was a dickhead.” 

She poked Xander’s chest and he grimaced, his hand instinctively and protectively rubbing the stinging skin. “The second guy, I was with him for a lot longer. Almost a year. It was the most  _ unsatisfying _ year of my entire life. I accidentally squeezed him too hard a few times and he just- deflated like a sad balloon. I managed to put him out of commission for a week once,  _ by accident _ ! He was a special ops soldier too, one of the most physically fit people I’ve ever met and  _ he _ couldn’t keep up with me, Xander. What makes you think you could?”

“But Buffy, I’m sure we could make it work--” he protested and her face hardened.

“No, Xan, you obviously don’t get it. I am  _ not _ interested in you at all. It’d be like making love to glass, constantly fearing that I’m going to break whoever it is I’m with. I’m not going to put myself through that ‘be normal’ crap everyone decided I needed--much less, let me add again, with  _ you _ . You. . . you,” she squeezed her eyes shut. “I had nightmares for months about you forcing yourself on me. I still do. It’s usually just mixed in with all the other awful crap that’s happened to me over the last eight years, but that’s beside the point!”

Giles had re-entered the kitchen during her rant, unnoticed, and was looking at her with naked horror. “Buffy,” he said awkwardly, “I would be entirely remiss if I didn’t admit to my failures in this. . . this, er, matter. I had no idea that the incident affected you so much, nor the extent of the actions perpetrated against you. . . I would  _ never _ have been complicit in Xander’s deception, if I had. . . The situation was obviously far more serious than he led me to believe.” He swallowed, struggling with his anger, “I, for my part, would like to apologize for my behavior and in future, assure you I will make an effort to obtain facts from the injured party,  _ not _ the perpetrator.” He glared at Xander.

Buffy took a few deep breaths, then looked back at Giles. “Giles, so help me god, if you ever use the words ‘for my own good’ or any variation thereof in any sentence you ever plan to say to me or think about me, I will not be held responsible for my actions.” She paused and took another deep breath, “That said, thank you for owning your mistake and apologizing.” She turned back to Xander, “Unlike some people.”

“Buffy, I’m--”

Buffy slammed her fist against the countertop. Giles and Xander jumped and the wood creaked in protest. “Xan, you aren’t sorry for your actions. You’re just sorry you got caught.  _ Get out. _ I don’t want to see you again until you feel like apologizing to me  _ and Willow _ properly.” 

Xander turned towards Giles with wide, pleading eyes, only to receive a cold stare as Giles crossed his arms. “Xander, I think you had better give all of us some space. I, for one, am not feeling entirely charitable right now.”

Buffy moved aside and let the cowed young man through. He left without saying another word, not even to Willow, who came into the kitchen, confused, a few minutes later. 

“Buffy, what did you do to Xander? He looked really upset. I just--I don’t understand you right now.”

_ Oh, the patented Willow-face-of-disapproval, how fun. _

Buffy unclenched her fists and studied the little red crescent marks her nails had left on her hands. “He lied, Willow.”

Willow looked at her, heartbreakingly innocent and insistent. “I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad, Buffy.”

Buffy grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the tiny cuts on her hands, already starting to close over. “He lied to both of us, Willow. He remembers everything about being possessed by that hyena demon.”

Willow turned white and looked queasy. “B-but I’m sure he didn’t m-mean it. I mean, come on, Buffy, it’s Xander! He wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless it was, you know,” she flapped her hands ineffectually, her voice tense with anxiety, “secretly a vampire or something.”

Buffy crumpled the paper towel and tossed it into the trash can, openly disgusted. She set her chin. “I know a few things about being possessed by a demon. I was a vampire for a little bit, remember? I could feel it humming under my skin, telling me to go bite people because it was  _ so _ hungry and you all smelled  _ so _ delicious and I felt so powerful. . . like it was the first time I was really alive. That’s not even counting the little bit of demon I got stuffed inside of me when I was chosen. It wants to hunt. It wants violence, and it wants to win. It’s there all the time and I just have to deal with it.  _ He  _ kept it a secret from us because he thought he still had a chance with me. That is  _ not _ ok.”

Buffy rubbed her forehead wearily. “Look, Giles, I didn’t mean to snap at you before, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean what I said. I just didn’t want to say it like that. A lot of crappy stuffy happened in the other time when you guys made decisions for me. You guys are my greatest strength and my biggest downfall. It messed me up so much last time because none of us communicated. Just try to keep in mind that I’m not actually the sixteen year old I look like, I’m twenty-four. Two years younger than Ms. Calendar.”

Giles’s eyebrows furrowed, then went wide in understanding. “Oh,” he said, “oh.”

Buffy raised her hands placatingly, “I’m aware that it’s going to take some time for everyone to get used to it, but I need you guys to come to me with your concerns before you decide to go off on your own and do what you think is best for me. I am an adult, and please try and remember,” she shrugged, “I do occasionally have good ideas, you know.”

 

***

 

Buffy stepped into the swanky offices of Clement and Sons Construction and Excavation. She walked along the polished marble floor of a foyer that glinted brightly under the overhead lighting. Willow, still slightly teary from their earlier conversation about Xander, scuttled along behind her, looking at everything with a worried, fearful expression. She eventually caught up to Buffy and gripped her hand tightly. Buffy patted it in what she hoped was a calming manner.

“Hi,” said the receptionist cheerfully, “welcome to Clement and Sons Construction and Excavation, what can I do for you?” 

Buffy gently detangled herself from Willow’s vice grip and leaned towards the receptionist. “Hi, I’ve, uh, got a meeting with Clem, with regards to some excavations. . .” 

The lady’s face brightened and she stood, reaching out her hand to shake Buffy’s over the counter. “You must be Buffy. I’m Adele. I’ll take you through to Mr. Clement’s office now. Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water, muffin?”  
Buffy glanced over at Willow, who looked like an abandoned kitten crossed with an impending tear-storm. “Would it be too much to ask for one tea, one coffee, and a muffin each?”

Adele stood and knocked on an unremarkable door behind her, ducking her head inside for a minute, before popping out with a smile. “Absolutely, no problem. How do you take your tea and coffee?” She ushered them inside and they sat down in comfortable chairs in front of Clem’s desk. 

Buffy pointed at Willow, “She’ll have the tea, white with one sugar, and I’ll have the coffee, white with two sugars, please.” 

Adele bobbed her head. “Anything I can get you, Mr. Clement, sir?” 

Clem waved a hand. “I’m still working on my hot chocolate from earlier, thanks. Tell Henry to take over reception so you can go take your lunch break. Can you organize some pizzas for about an hour before you go, though? It’s the crew’s turn for free lunch. Thanks, Adele, I don’t know how this office would run without you.”

Adele snorted. “It wouldn’t,” she teased, “you’re lucky I like you.” She paused. “I guess the pay isn’t a hardship either. Two muffins, tea, white with one and coffee white with two, correct?”

Buffy nodded and smiled. “Thanks.” Adele left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Clem clapped his hands together. “So,” he said, smiling through pointy teeth, “I have some paperwork for you to look through and then we can take the tour.” 

Buffy smiled and took the paperwork. After a few minutes she passed the top page to Willow, who looked at her in bewilderment. “If there’s anything you don’t understand, ask Clem and I’m sure he can explain it. I’m going to be away for a month and I want you to keep everything running smoothly while I’m gone, so it’s important you understand exactly what’s going on.” Still bewildered (but brightening at the idea of being in charge of something), Willow studied the paperwork as Buffy passed it along, occasionally asking questions. Buffy smiled at her friend finally calm in the middle of an entire company full of demons, completely engrossed in paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the long-awaited chapter, please let me know if you enjoyed it, I love your comments so much!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Hey all!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! We get to meet a familiar face and some interesting characters.
> 
> Many thanks to Twinkles for her amazing Beta work. Anything out of order is my fault, I've messed with it after she had perfected it!

 

_ “His philosophy was a mixture of three famous schools -- the Cynics, the Stoics and the Epicureans -- and summed up all three of them in his famous phrase, 'You can't trust any bugger further than you can throw him, and there's nothing you can do about it, so let's have a drink.” _

― Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

  
  


One hot chocolate, a cup of tea, coffee, and two muffins later Buffy was satisfied with the contract and so was Willow. She signed the bottom document and initialed the few paragraphs throughout that required initialing. 

She flicked briefly through the document again. “The deposit was $3000 right?” Clem nodded and Buffy reached into her purse and pulled out a signed but otherwise blank check, entered in the amount and filled in Clem's company name. “Here you are. All signed and everything.”

Clem took the check, looked it over carefully and satisfied clipped it to the top of the signed contract.

“I'll get Adele to make a copy while I give you guys the tour.” 

He stood and the girls followed him out of his office and back to reception.

 

Adele was just putting her headset back on and settling back into her desk from her lunch break as they arrived in reception. “Adele, could you make a copy of this contract and take care of this check please? - Oh, can you please add Miss Rosenberg to the contacts on this job? Miss Summers is going to be away for a little while during the dig.”

Adele smiled and took the paperwork. “Of course. Miss Rosenberg do you have a number I can contact you on?” Willow gave Adele her home number and she diligently wrote it down on the front of the contract, then removed the clip and check to start photocopying the paperwork. She gave the girls a small smile and waved as they walked away.

 

Clem stopped the trio in front of a serious looking door with an ‘Employees Only’ sign on the front.

“Miss Summers, I just need to warn you- and please let me finish before you say anything- that I have two vampires in my employ.” Willow gasped and Buffy elbowed her gently and nodded for Clem to continue. “Both of whom are black ribboners, have been in my employ for years. You and your little red friend have nothing to fear from them. They are completely safe and can socialize freely with humans without getting all fang-happy. They get tested once a week for human blood in their system, it's a condition of working here, see?”  He searched Buffy's face for a negative reaction, seeing none he continued, “I also have a Fyral demon; he was the runt of his litter and apparently it's customary for their clans to remove the antlers of the smallest and weakest and turn them out into the wilds to die. He found us, as weak as a kitten and Mr Klopp took pity on him and looked after him. He's about as intelligent as a normal Fyral - which is to say not at all - but is about as aggressive as a fly. So, ah... any problems girls?” Clem scratched his head nervously and shuffled his feet.

 

Buffy shrugged and Willow nodded but scuttled behind Buffy just in case. “Lead on Clem, sounds interesting.” She flashed him a smile and he visibly relaxed.

 

Clem unlocked the door and ushered them into a small-ish break room. Well, it was in fact a rather large room, but the great hulking figures of what Buffy assumed must have been Mr Klopp and another, unknown golem made the space feel positively cramped. None of the room's inhabitants seemed unhappy about the arrangement though, so she followed Clem into the center of the small-but-big space, Willow as ever scurrying behind.

“Guys, guys, gather around. These are the clients for the dig I've been pricing up for the last two days; Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg, this is the team that will be working your dig.” 

Buffy waved, and Willow stepped out slightly from behind Buffy to wave meekly too.

“I'll let you guys introduce yourselves if that's ok? Pizza should be here in about 10 minutes.”

 

A lanky, brown haired man cautiously approached the pair. He had a pleasant face with wide brown eyes and an unfortunately prominent nose. Buffy smiled at him comfortingly, and all the tension fell away as a goofy smile spread across his face.

“Hi, Miss,” he made a gesture as though he was going to tip his hat, despite the fact he wasn't wearing one. “I'm Buck. Please excuse me for sayin’ so, but you two are mighty pretty.” Willow blushed and stepped a little further out from behind Buffy. “I'm right glad to have met you both. I'm a pretty easy going guy, please don't hesitate to ask any questions that might be botherin’ ya.” He put out his hand and shook Buffy and Willow's hands.

 

“If you don't mind me asking, Buck, when were you turned?” 

Willow ‘eeped’ and dove back behind Buffy. Buffy rolled her eyes, Willow should really know better by now.

“In the 1950’s, Miss,” he said without any trace of annoyance.

 

“Is your sire anyone I would know? Or should be worried about finding you and causing trouble?” she said, all business now.

 

“He pops by every now and again to check on me, see how unlife is treating me. He doesn’t usually cause any trouble, don’t drink from the tap no more. Says it tastes just as bad as from a bottle, so why bother? Drinks black market at Willy’s or from Viola at the dump. Name of Lawson, Sam Lawson. Lookin for a mission he says, disappears for years at a time.”

 

Buffy’s eyebrows shot all the way to her hairline. “You’re from The Master’s line? Your sire was Sam Lawson, was a submariner in the 40’s?”

 

Buck looked surprised. “Well, dunno about the rest but that sounds like my sire, he was a bilge rat from way back. A straight up and down sorta guy, said he turned me because he was lonely.”

 

Buffy smiled. “And one final question if you don't mind,” - Buck nodded genially - “what's your reasoning for giving up the long white pig?”

 

He snorted and then grew serious for a moment. “When I was just a fledge I was keepin' in contact with my sister, see, because she was all I had left in the world besides Sam. We'd both been orphans fore long as I can remember. Lawson had me drinking human from a bottle; it made it really hard to be round her but I still tried. I was walking her home from a movie and we got spotted by a bunch of feral vamps, though I didn't know it at the time. They followed her home and the next day convinced her I was in trouble. She followed them out to my place and.. they...killed her, in my apartment. It was awful….and no matter how much I scrubbed I could still smell her blood and it made me  _ so _ hungry. Lawson an’ I massacred the entire pack and I ain't never touched human again. ‘Coz Lucy wouldn't want it.” 

 

Buffy briefly gripped his hand. “I’m sorry about your sister, and for bringing up something painful like that.”

 

Buck smiled at her sadly “That’s mighty kind of you miss, but it was a long time ago now. It's nice to know someone else ‘sides me's gonna remember her. ‘Sides, she's not dead while her name is still spoken* and all that.”

 

“Thanks, Buck, it was nice meeting you.” Buffy smiled and Buck wandered over to the table and sat down.

 

A bespectacled face with scared yellow eyes picked his way carefully through the rabble of supernatural individuals in the break room.

 

Buffy eyed him carefully- he seemed familiar.

“H-h-hello Miss S-s-summers, M-m-miss R-rosenberg. P-pleased to m-meet y-you b-both.” He stood a little taller. “I-I'm D-dalton, I'm th-the n-night f-foreman that w-will be overs-seeing your p-project. F- feel free to a-ask me anything.” He frowned and then nodded decisively, like he hadn't made up his mind on whether the last thing he said was true until after he'd said it.

 

“Dalton, I think I've heard of you before. I had no idea you were a black ribboner though.” She smiled at him, and Dalton visibly deflated in relief. “Y-es miss. Only good things I h-hope.”

 

“Well, I've heard that you're very intelligent, you know lots of languages and stuff. And er-” Buffy floundered for a moment “Lots of smart things.” she finished lamely.

 

“Th-thank you miss. Was there anything else?” He shifted nervously, like he was fighting the instinct to run away.

 

“Can I ask about your sire and why you've given up human?”

 

“I-I, er” he scratched his head and scrunched his eyebrows. “My s-sire is dead, I uh, believe it was you who slew him actually, Miss Summers, I was only ever a researcher so had no part in the- ah- attack that had you burn down the highschool g-gym at Hemery, I was just a translator.”

 

“Huh?” echoed Willow from behind Buffy. “Who turned him?” she whispered. 

 

Buffy sighed, “Willow he has like, super bat hearing, he can hear you. He’s saying that Lothos is his sire.” She turned to address Dalton again, “Can you do that flying thing then? That was way creepy.”

 

“Ah, no Miss, that was a- ah, skill that was only passed down to a few select members o-of the clan, I was not fortunate enough to be endowed with that skill. Lothos turned me in the 1940’s when his previous researcher was killed.” He looked at her fearfully, like he was expecting her to stake him. 

 

“Can’t help family huh?” 

  
  


Dalton shook his head tightly. “My demon has never really been interested in humans before, it’s no hardship for me not to drink- er- from the tap as it were. I also am sometimes hired as a researcher- because of my ability to do- as you said  _ ‘lots of smart things’ _ ”

 

Buffy snorted, “Did you just make fun of me Dalton?” He looked fearful for a moment and Buffy winked at him. “I think you and I might get along just fine. No matter my grasp of the English language.” She had to stop herself from poking out her tongue at him and smiled playfully instead.

 

Dalton breathed a sigh of relief. “Was that all, Miss?”

 

Buffy nodded, “Thank you for being honest with me, Dalton, I know that must have been really scary.”

 

Dalton nodded, turned, sat next to Buck at the table and began rifling through paperwork that was scattered on the table. 

 

Buffy turned to Willow “This hasn't been so bad so far has it? Just because it's a bit unknown doesn’t mean it’s automatically scary. And hey, no one’s tried to eat you yet, that's always a plus in my book.”

 

Willow let out a small snort and came to stand beside her. “You really need to rethink your expectations if ‘not having anything try to eat you yet’ is your basis for having a good day.”

 

“Slayer remember silly? I’m a nummy treat for lots of nasties.”

 

Willow looked thoughtful for a moment, “Well I suppose in your book that would probably be considered a good thing then I guess.”

 

Buffy turned a brilliant smile onto Willow, “That's the spirit!”

 

*Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> I'm slowly working my way through answering all your comments, so don't hesitate to add more!
> 
> The next chapter is almost finished and has ballooned out to twice as big as this chapter. I hope you all love it.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All!
> 
> I know another chapter so soon after the other one? This story has been really running away with me recently and you guys get to reap the rewards!
> 
> So this chapter turned out 7000% longer than intended and I place the blame directly on Zabjade. She talked me round to Xander actually having feelings;  
> Ugh, gross!
> 
> Anyway, Please enjoy this chapter, I made it special for you guys.
> 
> Next chapter we get a glimpse of Spike! Yay!

“The truth isn't easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap and much more difficult to find.”   
― Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

 

Two golems, one orange, one white shuffled forward, followed meekly by a de-antlered Fyarl demon. Willow fairly vibrated with nervous energy beside her. Buffy stepped forward and extended her hand. “Hi, I'm Buffy, this is Willow. It's nice to meet you.”  
The terracotta colored golem held out his hand with what Buffy imagined was approximately the speed of continental drift. “Greeting,” he said, in a voice like two rocks grinding together. He looked the two girls over with glacial slowness. He turned to Buffy. “You Are Quite Small For A Warrior.”   
Willow made a scandalised face and looked at Buffy, who didn't seem to be bothered. She smiled diplomatically. “You are quite average for a golem,” Buffy observed.  
“That Is Accurate,” he boomed. His lips were the only thing that moved on his face and the red light of his eye holes roamed over her expression.   
“Has your companion speech? He is a very unusual colour.”  
Mr Klop slowly turned to look at the other golem. The red light of their eye holes met, their faces bathed in the others eerie glow. They seemed to converse silently for a moment. “He Can Sing As Do All Golem.” He paused, and the moment seemed to drag on forever. “Hephaestus Did Not Allow Him Human Speech.” He nodded, with what would probably have passed for thoughtful for a golem. “He Is A Quite Unusual Golem.”   
The golem nodded solemnly.  
Willow let out a sort of gasp-squeal and suddenly gripped Buffy's arm as if she were going to fall.  
Dalton, from his spot behind them at the table, made a remarkably similar noise and looked as though he was going to faint. Which was strange - Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen a vampire with that expression before, nor that they were capable of making it.  
“Who is Heph-what-istis?”  
“Hephaestus,” said Dalton carefully, with a strangely detached look on his face, “is the Greek god of fire, metalworking, masonry, forges and sculpture. He made all the weapons of the gods of Olympus. He- he invented automaton to work his forges- though the descriptions of the automata were incredibly vague, I think we now have some evidence that they may have been golem working them. Which would make sense, given how they are impervious to a great many things.”  
The rest of the group looked back to Mr Klopp.   
“Yes,” he said, and Buffy was sure that continental drift may actually be faster than Mr Klopp at this point. “This Is Also Accurate.”   
Buffy plastered a smile on her face. She just knew that, first; Giles and Dalton would get along famously, and, second; they would probably find the limit of golem patience, something they were renowned for never ever, ever running out of. And, third; they were probably going to annoy the bejeezus out of Clem, which was frustrating because she had a favor to ask of him, and her Watcher's inclusion might strain the slowly building relationship she was trying to cultivate with Clem and co.  
“Thank you,” said Buffy, shooting for amiable but landing on frustrated instead. “This conversation has been most enlightening.”   
The golem both nodded and turned away to resume their positions behind the main group.  
Buffy gulped nervously, and cleared her throat - she'd never tried this with this body before, and hoped she didn't end up sounding like a lunatic. After all, she'd only learned it to feel a little closer to Spike when she thought he'd been dead. She let out a rumbling growl noise, and the Fyarl demon stopped in its tracks and turned to look at her curiously. She made the same noise again, and winced as the unnatural noise hurt her vocal cords. The fyarl walked back toward her and tilted its head like an inquisitive puppy. The fyarl made a noise kinda like a ‘rarguh- arg-click’, which Buffy supposed was an appropriate greeting for the circumstances. She let out a string of incomprehensible growls and clicks which really just translated to, “Do you wish to do the violence?”  
The fyarl shook its head and answered with a similar voice box-destroying series of growling, clicking, and grunting sounds which approximately translated to “Charlie does not wish to do the violence.”  
Buffy let Charlie go back to his Golems with a groaning click, and realised the whole room was staring at her.  
“Ah,” she said nervously, “I was stuck in a time loop for about the equivalent of a month with two fyarl demons, what else was I supposed to do? Go stir crazy? Besides, Freida and Hansel turned out to be quite nice, despite their tendency for violence.”   
Willow gave Buffy a very strange look, but everyone else seemed satisfied with that answer. After all, they all lived on the hellmouth.

After that, a few more people introduced themselves. George, a bracken demon, was the safety rep and first aid in charge. Buffy wondered idly how sharp his face spikes were and how much they would hurt if he was trying to resuscitate someone.  
There was another loose-skinned demon, Darla, who was the general dogsbody and ran around doing all those things that don't really need any special skills but need doing nonetheless.  
And a few others whose names Buffy forgot almost immediately.

Clem, who seemed delighted by the way everything had gone, came back with pizza a couple of minutes before everyone was finished making introductions.   
Buffy took him aside, away from Willow.  
“Clem, I was just wondering if I could ask you a favor?”  
Clem smiled an easy toothy grin at her. “I can't promise to say yes, but I will listen.”   
Why was it that talking to Clem felt easier than some of her friends? “That's all I could possibly ask….”

*

Walking back to Revello after her chat with Clem, Buffy felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.   
That was, until she spotted Joyce and Xander having an argument on the front porch. Well, argument may have been a stretch. Joyce was doing a very good job with the I'm-very-disappointed-with-you mom look, and Xander seemed to be shrinking under her ire.  
Buffy listened to her mom defending her from Xander. She'd already changed so much; Joyce never would have been this vocal about her mistreatment in the other-time.  
Or,’said the annoying little voice in her head that was usually right - stupid voice - she didn't know any better last time. Now that she knows what's going on, she has your back. She knows what's important to you this time.

Buffy took a step onto the porch and the argument came to an abrupt halt.  
“Buffy,” Joyce said, with real concern in her eyes.   
Of course it's real concern, silly. She loves you. It made Buffy want to cry a little bit.   
“I was just about to ask him to leave, but he keeps insisting that he needs to speak with you.” Joyce aimed a scathing glare at Xander, who did shrink a little more but, Buffy noticed, stood his ground.   
Buffy dropped the bag she was carrying and wrapped Joyce in a bear hug. “Thanks, mom.” She sighed. “I kinda need to talk to him anyway.”   
Joyce looked worriedly between Buffy and Xander. “If he makes you uncomfortable dear-”  
“Don't worry about me, mom. I can break him in half before he even thinks about laying a hand on me.”  
Joyce aimed another glare at Xander. “If you hurt my baby, they'll be finding bits of you for weeks.”   
Buffy and Xander's mouths both popped open.  
“Your mom is way scary,” Xander said, and shuddered dramatically.   
This Buffy was not easily fooled, not anymore. His face did look quite pale though. She nodded tightly and lifted an eyebrow. “You wanted to speak to me?” Buffy said icily.  
“I wanted- ” he started, bravery faltering slightly.   
Buffy sighed, waved Xander through the house and out onto the back porch. She sat on the top step and looked up at Xander as he awkwardly stood a respectable distance away.   
He took a deep breath and tried again. “When it happened- I just wanted to forget about all of it. Because if I forgot, then I thought I could just push down that little dark voice inside me and never have to pay attention to it again.” He fidgeted and started to pace a bit more. “I could pretend that I hadn't spent half a day acting out all the evil little things that swim around in the back of your head, like ‘god I wish I could show those bullies who they're really messing with’ or ‘that annoying Jodie girl never shuts up- wouldn't life be better if she did?’” He wrung his hands and looked down at his feet.“You were right. Part of the reason I lied is because I wanted to make sure I didn’t screw up whatever chance I thought I might still have with you. The other part was… I was disgusted with myself, how I acted towards you, towards Willow, and whoever else got in my way.” He pursed his lips and Buffy could see his jaw clench. “It felt good, being that powerful. Other kids being afraid of me.” He clenched his fists and slumped against the porch railing. “But being like that reminded me of my dad, how he is when he’s drunk. It’s like he gets this sadistic pleasure from seeing my mom afraid of him. From seeing- seeing me afraid of him. And I hate it. That that’s inside of me. That I have the potential to turn into him.  
“I couldn’t- I didn't know how to put it into words before. But when I went home after what you and Giles said my parents were having this massive fight, throwing things and yelling and,” -he paused- “stuff. And it all kinda clicked- I don't want to be my dad. I want to be one of the good guys, and good guys don't do stuff like that.”  
Buffy patted the step beside her, and Xander tentatively sat down, making sure no parts of his body were touching Buffy.  
“The fear on those kids faces- it just reminds me of how terrified I am of dad when he's been drinking. I don't- it's not right that I spread that kind of darkness around. That I felt justified in doing it at the time. I'm sorry that I lied. I'm sorry that I co-opted Giles into my lies, and I'm sorry about what I tried to do to you. That I tried to-” he grit his teeth and swallowed hard, “rape you. It was wrong and disgusting of me and I just want you to know that in my right mind I would never, ever try to force myself on you or anyone else.” There were tears in his eyes as he stared down at his shoes.  
Buffy shifted uncomfortably. “Younger Buffy would have understood, you know.”  
Xander scoffed. “How could she? She was- you are, a superhero. Your life is like, perfect compared to mine.”  
Buffy looked at him. There was a single tear hanging from the end of his nose, about to drop on to the wet spot on the porch steps.  
She sighed. “I don't really want to play ‘My trauma is better than yours’, but some pretty shitty stuff happened before and after I moved to Sunnydale. In Young Buffy's past, there was... being coerced by my first watcher, Merrick to go and meet him in graveyards at night. If I had been anyone but a supernatural 15-year-old in that situation I definitely would have ended up on the back of a milk carton. I watched him die, right in front of me. And live with the guilt that I should have been able to save him.  
“I burned down Hemery gym to stop Lothos, and they tossed me in jail for a little bit. Just until the school's lawyer convinced my parents that it would be kinder to put the crazy girl who was talking about killing vampires and demons into a mental institution rather than send her to juvie.”   
Xander was looking at her in disbelief. “Your parents put you in a mental institution when you tried to tell them about vampires?”  
Buffy nodded. “It was awful, they kept me doped up to the eyeballs with tranquilizers because I was too strong for the orderlies to handle. Convinced me that I was delusional, and that I’d had a mental breakdown from the trauma of my parent’s divorce and seeing Merrick die.”  
“Oh,” he said, voice gruff with comprehension. “Oh. That explains a lot about how you were when you got to Sunnydale.”  
“Yeah, it wasn't fun. Mom was drinking a lot trying to deal with the divorce, and while she wasn't abusive she was just- not emotionally available. I know your parents drinking and their abuse affects you all the time, even in the future where I was from. You don't have to deal with it alone, and I can say from experience that pushing down that sort of thing only makes it worse in the long run- lots worse. I'm not saying you need to talk to me, or Wills, or whoever, but you should find someone to talk to. It needs to be your decision though. Forcing it before you're ready leads to badness. I'm not telling you this so you feel sorry for me - I'm telling you this so you understand that you aren't alone in the shitty hand you've been dealt. As for the darkness you were talking about before,” -she stopped and swallowed hard- “I did something bad too. To someone I love- loved, and he ended up paying for it. It wasn't his fault, not completely like everyone thought. I was never brave enough to set the record straight and now he's gone and I might not get the chance to get him back this time around. He might not ever become the man that I loved, and if he doesn't that failing sits directly on my shoulders. Do you want me to tell you, or do you think you’ve had enough emotional trauma for today?”  
Xander looked lost for a moment. “If you feel comfortable talking to me about it, then I'm gonna try and listen.”  
Buffy smiled for the first time since before they had started talking. “There's the Xander I know and love.”   
He smiled wryly, and Buffy rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sighed.  
“You have to understand, in my future - the one I came from - that no one was anywhere near as open-minded as they are now- even Giles. We all had experiences that tainted our views on different things- vampires for example. Angel lost his soul on my 17th birthday and killed a whole bunch of people…. Including Ms Calendar. He tortured Giles. Eventually, he got his soul back and managed to convince all of us that demons don't change, they don't have real feelings, and that without a soul they could never, ever love.”  
“And Angel is a giant liar pants right?”   
Buffy nodded “Exactly that. So when we had this vampire show up with a microchip in his brain that stopped him from hurting humans, begging for sanctuary because he was starving and effectively ‘safe’, I couldn't stake him. He eventually started helping us, patrolling, kinda helping with research. No one believed he could learn to be good. And he did. Learn to be good. He was amazing really. He withstood torture from a hellgod so the identity of my sister would stay a secret. He stayed and looked after her all summer while I was dead, patrolled in my place. No one - except maybe Tara, who you haven't met yet - believed he was doing good because it was the right thing to do, only because he thought he was going to get a reward for it. He loved me and my sister more than life itself.”

Buffy wrung her hands and continued. “You, Willow, Tara, and your fiancée resurrected me with some horrifically dark magic - which, please, never ever do that again - and pulled me out of heaven.”  
“Why would we do that? That sounds… well, evil I guess.”  
“You didn't know, and Willow didn't think to check. You all thought I was stuck in a hell dimension and that you were doing the right thing. When I got back… I was broken, and I didn't tell you guys where I'd been because I didn't want everyone looking at me with pity and skulking around trying to earn my forgiveness. A bunch of stuff happened. We found out that his microchip didn't work on me anymore, and S- he and I fell into this horrifically violent relationship. We'd beat the absolute crap out of each other and then have even more violent sex. Sex in which no always meant yes and yes also meant yes.”  
“How were you both supposed to know when no actually meant no then?”  
“Exactly. We'd been hiding our relationship from everyone, well, because the last relationship I'd had with a vamp resulted in people getting killed. You, in particular, were convinced that he was only pretending he loved me to get into my pants. Despite all the evidence to the contrary. I broke up with him, because I felt guilty about the way I was treating him and all the secrecy was killing me. He got drunk and went and did something stupid. I watched the whole thing because some nerds were spying on us and Willow had managed to tap into their camera feed. I was crushed. I went out and picked a fight with the biggest, meanest pack of vampires I could find and almost died. I got thrown into a headstone and could hardly move. When I eventually got back home I was upstairs in the bathroom attempting to start myself a bath, and my vampire walked in to… I don't know what he thought he was going to do, but I know what happened was definitely not what he planned. He’d found out about what I'd seen and come to talk about it. I think he came to apologise, even though he and I weren’t actually together at the time.”   
Buffy wiped tears away from her face. “I’ve never told anyone this before. But he was trying to get through to me, the way we always did, except this time I wasn't... I was almost too hurt to… this time no actually meant no and he almost-” She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket and took a shaky breath. “But he didn't. He realized and was absolutely horrified about what he almost did. He apologised and took off, only to bump into you coming up the stairs. You took one look at the mess in the bathroom, the masses of cuts and bruises all over me, and decided what had happened. You berated me for trusting him because he'd finally proved you right.”  
“Buffy- I'm s-”  
“Hang on, I'm not quite finished yet. And you don't need to apologize, you haven't done anything. He disappeared after that, he was gone for 6 months, I think. I dunno. More bad stuff happened. He came back. But he was totally, completely, batshit insane. I'm talking, speaking to people that weren't there, hugging crucifixes, apologizing to victims he'd killed decades ago. Just the whole lot. He'd gone and got his soul. For me. No loopholes, pure and unadulterated, his original human soul free of curses. And it almost broke him. He got it so he'd never hurt me again. Then he sacrificed himself to close the hellmouth and he was gone and I was alone again. He was the only one that got me. He'd seen me at my very, very worst and loved me anyway. And no one understood.”

“Wow,” Xander said after a few minutes of silence. “That was hard to listen to. I just- I'm sorry about future Xander. I could definitely see- even this me walking into that situation and jumping to that conclusion. I think that if I'd managed to keep the hyena thing under wraps that long I probably would have seen a lot of myself in what happened to you.”  
“Huh, I never thought of it like that before. You're probably right. Like I said before, the darkness thing, you aren't alone in it. Willow is capable of some horrible stuff, same as Giles, same as my mom.”  
“How do I not do that though?”  
“Choose whenever possible to do the right thing. Even if it's hard. Especially when it's hard, those are usually the times they count the most. You aren't your dad Xander, and you never were in my future. You just have some shit to work out that's hard to talk about.”  
“I don't- I'm not sure how much longer I can live at home with my parents,” Xander admitted.  
“Oh,” said Buffy, “I might actually have a plan that could help you with that. You wouldn't be able to move out straight away, but you'd probably end up having a job when you graduate. If you wanted, that is.”  
“I'm open to suggestions, what did you have in mind?” he said, and a hopeful expression almost made an appearance on his face.  
“Clem has a friend who does some carpentry work for him sometimes. He's looking for someone to help him out a little and is willing to pay you fairly if you guys work out. It might lead to an apprenticeship if he thinks you do good work.”  
Xander looked thoughtful. “What's the catch?”  
“He's half bracken demon.” She paused and studied him carefully; he scrunched up his face for a second, but then shrugged. “He can pass for human almost all the time and the only time he gets all spikey is if he sneezes or he gets angry. Bracken demon are peaceful, they generally don't have any interest taking over the world or being evil and stuff. Giles could probably show you in a few of his books if you were interested. Oh! And he understands you might need time off for apocalypses, or apocali, whatever you call them.”  
“And you organized all this before I'd apologized?” he said, a mystified expression on his face.  
“Well, yeah, I figured you'd eventually get around to telling me why you hadn't said anything, and probably end up apologising. Just because I was angry and hurt by you doesn't mean I didn't care about you anymore.”  
“Oh,” he said, stunned. “You're too forgiving for your own good, you know that?”   
Buffy nodded, “Probably, but it’s only backfired on me on a few occasions, so I'm willing to look past it.”

“How did Angel lose his soul?” Xander asked after a moment.   
Buffy looked around and let out her spidey senses as far as they would go. Nothing Angel shaped within eavesdropping distance. “Coerced me into sleeping with him on my 17th birthday.”  
Xander went white. “I hate to bring up this topic again, but that's statutory rape in the state of California.”  
Buffy smiled sardonically “Well, I thought we were in love. It was his M.O back when he was Angelus. He’d pull the mysterious act, swoop in to save you at the last minute, then, when you felt thoroughly indebted to him, he'd pull out the kicked puppy dog routine, tell you he loves you and can't live without you. Seduce some poor girl, and then turn into a sadistic monster who kills all your friends, family, nails your puppy to a door, makes a necklace out of your pet fish etc. Etc.”  
“Sounds like a swell guy. Wait. He did that to Willow's fish?” he said, sounding alarmed.   
“Yeah, don't trust him. Whatever he says the opposite is probably true. He's been following me around since I was 15. I would dearly love to dust him, but I have one or two plans that would be difficult to pull off without him around. That, and the PTB would probably bring him back. It's as if they like him or something,” she scoffed. “He's had way too many second chances as far as I'm concerned.”

‘Ok,” Xander started, “say I want to help this bracken guy-”  
“His name is Kevin,” Buffy filled in.  
“Say I want to help Kevin, how do I do that?”  
Buffy smiled - look at Xander trying something new for a change. “Come with me tomorrow and we'll go see him in his workshop. It's not very far away from school. I'll stay until you feel comfortable, then I'll go check on the dig Clem's setting up for me. I'll swing back round and walk you home if it’s after dark when you finish.”  
“Thanks, Buff, that would be awesome.”  
“Hey, maybe you should move into your basement. You did after you graduated in the future and you seemed a little happier - well, less unhappy - about being at home afterwards.”   
Xander hummed in agreement.

There was a noise from behind them.   
“Xander,” Joyce said kindly, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She must have been eavesdropping; obviously Buffy’s mom spidey senses were lacking. “Would you like some lunch?” Xander shook his head. “Thanks, Mrs Summers, but I’ve got a few other people to grovel to before today is over.”  
She smiled at him. “If I understand what Buffy's told me correctly, Rupert may be a more sympathetic ear than you realise.”   
Buffy nodded in agreement. “Give me a call when you get home, Xan, and I'll find out what time Kevin will be at his shop and organise when to go round there.”  
“Thanks, ladies, I'll see you both tomorrow.” Xander wiped his face, waved goodbye and walked out into the front yard.

“Why haven't you told the others his name yet?”  
Buffy lifted an eyebrow, “He's killed two slayers before me, mom. The last thing I need is for Giles or Angel to get it into their heads that they're saving me from him and dust him before I get to see him again. Giles is almost there, but he's still in his watchery mindset - especially after I died, like, four days ago. I'll tell him, soon. He knows quite a few details already, just not his name.”  
Joyce frowned, and then looked at Buffy's confident face. “If that's what you think is right, dear.” Buffy nodded. “Come and have some lunch, then we'll start packing for our trip. I'm excited about seeing Vegas again, I haven't been there since your father and I were on our honeymoon.”  
Buffy smiled, “You know that's not the reason we're going, don't you? We'll only be there for a night or so.”  
Joyce sighed dreamily and turned back into the kitchen without answering.  
So much for the mission, Buffy thought. Then again, her mom was happy right now, what did it matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it, please leave a review, I promise I'm going to start replying to them all soon!
> 
> You guys all give me the energy to keep writing this!!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Hi All!!
> 
> It's just a shorty this time, and you get a little dose of Spike for your troubles as well!
> 
> Thanks as always go to my awesome beta, Twinkles!

 

_ “There's a door." _

_ "Where does it go?" _

_ "It stays where it is, I think.”  _

― Terry Pratchett, Eric.

  
  


Buffy was confronted by a Jabba the Hutt sized caterpillar with what could only be described as Principal Snyder’s sniveling face. 

"What do you mean by that?" said the Snyder-Caterpillar sternly, Buffy apparently becoming aware of this conversation part way through. "Explain yourself!" 

Buffy looked around at the blackened remains of Sunnydale High School,  _ surely this must be a dream? _ "I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Buffy earnestly, "because I'm not myself, you see."

A wicked screech came from within the bowels of the school and Buffy looked around. It sounded familiar, but not in a good way - it set her teeth on edge and made her antsy.

"I don't see," said the Snyder-pillar.

Buffy watched with horror as the Snake-mayor emerged from the school, gnashing its horribly demented teeth; the explosion mustn’t have quite killed it. Flesh hung from its face, exposing bone and muscle, and it was blinded in one eye, a bloodied, darkened hole glaring out at her. It unhinged its jaw and coiled its massive body ready to strike, looking at Buffy and the deformed caterpillar with an intense, fiery hunger.

"I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," Buffy replied very politely, her dream self completely ignoring the giant, mangled snake about to devour them, "for I can't understand it myself.” 

Buffy abruptly became aware of a hypnotically melodic song coming from somewhere nearby. The princi-pllar rambled on in the background. Cold vampire tinglies rushed up her spine,  _ familiar  _ tinglies. Her heart leapt as a black clad figure appeared behind the snake monster. No. No-no-no-no-no. The tinglies were wrong; they were sharp and pointy, not pockmarked and smooth with age like Spike’s were. And where was the white bleached hair?

 

“By-the-bye, what became of the baby?” A tall willowy figure danced nimbly over and around the wreckage of the school. 

Wickedly sharp talons suddenly cut dream-Buffy’s face and she stumbled away, tripping on some rubble. She was picked up and swung around like a rag doll, the air pungent with fuel and fire. 

Drusilla laughed maniacally as the Mayor dove for them, hissing as he struck a pile of rubble with his face instead of his intended targets. 

“I want a clean cup,” Drusilla cackled, twirling them again as the Mayor dove for them. “Let's all move one place on.” 

The Mayor, obviously having given up on their erratic dancing, opted for the Snyderpillar instead. He made an obscene slurping noise as he sucked down the remains of Snyder-the-hutt. Buffy was never going to be able to look at spaghetti the same way again. 

Drusilla hugged her close, tearing her eyes away from the other monster in her midst. 

“Poor sunshine fell 

d

o

w

n

the hOle, 

bumped her head

and bruised her soul” 

The insane vampiress leaned in closer and Buffy could feel her cold breath against her neck.

_ If she died in her dream, would she die in real life?  _

It almost felt pornographic. The way Dru held her, like a lover, her sharp nails digging into her scalp and her other arm wrapped around her hip. The alien feeling of breasts pressing against hers made her cringe away. She was Spike's lover right now - this was probably how she held him, how he held her. Hot, fiery jealousy sparked an inferno inside her. It boiled acid up her esophagus and made her want to vomit. Damn Drusilla, the loony was probably sharing this dream with her right now, enjoying her discomfort. Stupid supernatural...ness.

“Red horns, green skin does your wise owl have.” Dru raked her fangs across the Master’s marks on her neck and Buffy tried to push her away again. “Sunshine, you'll not get the host's attention with that attitude; you'll have to wait to be seated like the rest.” Dru pulled back and licked her fangs, her tongue flicking over them, moving obscenely. 

“Well, I never heard it before,” said dream-Buffy, “but it sounds uncommon nonsense.”

“Sweet sunshine, either it brings tears to their eyes, or else -"   
"Or else what?" said Buffy, for Drusilla had made a sudden pause.   
"Or else it doesn't, you know.” 

Drusilla’s face was suddenly pressed against Buffy’s nose;

**_“Wake up, little Rabbit!”_ **

 

*

 

“Mmmm,” Drusilla moaned, stretching languidly on the dirty motel mattress. “My knight, your sunshine tastes so sweet.” She licked the blood from her fingers dreamily. “You would kill sunshine for princess wouldn’t you, my Spike?”

“My sweet,” Spike rumbled in a sleep-roughened voice. “I would flay the very skin from her bones to make a crown fit for my princess.” He rolled onto his side and took her hand, sucking on her fingertips. His brows drew together. “Dru,” he said cautiously, “who’s blood is this?” 

Dru rolled towards him and giggled madly. “She’s Chosen to be the sacrificial rabbit, our dear Alice. You’ll have her soon, my love.” 

Spikes eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. “There would be nothing better to heal you, darling. You’ll taste the chit soon enough.” He stroked Drusilla’s dark black hair and placed a doting kiss on her nose. She giggled and squirmed a little. “Now, my sweet, you need more rest, back off to dreamland with you.” He laid back on the pillow and Dru cuddled into his chest. 

_ “What, but thee, Sleep? Soft closer of our eyes!”  _ he whispered into her hair.

_ Low murmurer of tender lullabies! _

_ Light hoverer around our happy pillows! _

_ Wreather of poppy buds, and weeping willows! _

_ Silent entangler of a beauty's tresses…. _ ” His low baritone grew soft as he looked down at Drusilla; she’d managed to fall back to sleep without much fuss, this time at least. Maybe she would have a good day tomorrow.

 

*

 

Alice in Wonderland was really starting to make her, very, very cross. Especially with the Drusilla gropage-  _ eww _ . She really had no idea what Spike was so obsessed with her for. Did he really not have  _ any _ standards? It would explain Harmony, what did it say about her though? She sighed at herself and shook her head - this line of thinking did not bode well. She should probably just hurry up and get to Giles’ and tell him about the nice new scratches she'd woken with.

Hah, and she'd kept herself awake last night, worried about Xander and Kevin getting along. She shouldn't have bothered. 15 minutes after she'd introduced them they'd completely forgotten she was there, caught up in their own little world and animatedly chatting about the episode of Star Trek that had aired the night before. Buffy had almost felt like an intruder. It was good - Xander hadn't had anyone to talk to about dorky boy-stuff since before Jessie had died - hopefully they continued getting along. Xander was due a win.

 

Finally she made it to Giles’ apartment and rapped on the door. After about a minute, eyebrow raised in confusion, she knocked again. He mustn't be in; no worries, she'd try and catch him after seeing Clem and chatting to the day foreman. She’d just turned to leave when the front door creaked open slightly. A red faced, harried, and disheveled head poked out. Buffy had to bite down a laugh; Giles’ glasses were perched half on his face, half falling off. 

“Er- yes?” he said dazedly. 

Buffy looked him up and down; he was clutching the door to his obviously bare chest, doing his best to shield himself from the outside. “Giles, uh- um. I just wanted to tell you about this dream I had last night-” 

There was the sharp crack of flesh hitting flesh, a giggling noise, and Giles made a hilarious yelping sound and turned to glare at someone -hopefully Jenny- behind the door. 

“-but I can see that you're very, very busy and I'll come back after lunch ok?” 

Giles, if it was possible, had turned even more red. Buffy grinned and leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Blink twice if you're being held against your will.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and he scowled after a few moments. Buffy passed him a small bundle of pages. As he reached out to grab them Buffy noticed with a smirk that he had a scarf tied around one wrist. She must have really caught him unawares. “Nice bracelet.” Spike, for some unknown reason, had always maintained that Giles was a freak under all that tweed, and well, now she had proof. Maybe it was some sort of weird English solidarity thing. Or maybe Spike had just gotten into his porn stash while he was out or something. What kind of person exactly just kept chains in their apartment on the  _ off chance _ someone evil needed restraining? Pshhh, as if. It squicked her out a little thinking about Giles and sex in the same sentence but the profound discomfort written all over her watchers face definitely outweighed the negatives.  _ So _ worth it. “I've written down what happened and what I think some of the stuff might mean. I'll be back later. Is after lunch ok?”

Giles looked perplexed at Buffy's uncharacteristic display of responsibility. 

“Older Buffy, remember?”

He nodded, turned to look at whomever was behind the door with a questioning eyebrow, and then glanced behind him to check the clock on the wall. “Er- yes, quite.” He reached up to straighten his glasses. He looked around furtively, nodded once, and slammed the door closed in her face.

There was a squeal of laughter from behind the door, then the low rumble of Giles’ voice and the slap of bare feet on tile. Huh, Giles had feet inside those patent leathers he always wore. That was weird. She had better leave before she heard anything else she didn't need to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you guys all enjoyed Buffy messing with Giles!
> 
> I'm slowly working my way through the bazillions of comments so pleeeeeeese keep letting me know what you think! I'll definitely get back to you...soon?
> 
> Thanks for reading as always, love you all!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Hi All!   
> Sorry as always for the delay, TJI (which will be posted in a day or so) has had an all-consuming need to be written and I've had a hard time attempting to write anything else. Happily, my muse seems to have gotten a yen to write this again!  
> Thank you as always for reading, and extra extra thanks to Twinkles for being an excellent beta!

 

_ “It's not worth doing something unless someone, somewhere, would much rather you weren't doing it.”  _

― Terry Pratchett

  
  
  


Four hours later Buffy stood in front of her watcher’s door again. She had debated leaving them be for another hour, but couldn't find anything else to do in such a short time. Messing around with stuff at the crypt (hanging shelves and digging out rubble) or roughing up Willy and sundry would take considerably more time than she had to spare at the moment. So, here she was, stalling until the very last second. She rolled her eyes at herself and knocked firmly on the door. 

Giles was just as harried, but more or less back to his usual tweedy self when he answered the door this time. He ushered her inside without saying a word and stood awkwardly at the breakfast bar. He stood there for almost a full minute before Buffy decided she was bored and broke the stilted silence stretching between them. “Do you want to talk about what happened this morning, or do you want to pretend like it didn't happen?” 

He straightened his already straight glasses. “Uh… I feel as though the latter would be far less mortifying at this point in time.” 

Buffy snorted and smiled at him. “Fine, but I reserve the right to rib you about it occasionally.” He glared at her as she continued, “How's packing going? Mums excited to see Vegas again, even though I've made it very clear we'll only be there for a day or so.”

He shrugged. “I'd not considered Los Vegas yet; this all seems very sudden. Are you sure it is entirely wise to leave the hellmouth at this juncture?” 

Buffy looked at him thoughtfully. “As far as I remember, in the other time I was away for almost the entire break in LA, and I think all you guys did was consecrate a plot in Restfield to bury The Master’s bones in. There may have been the occasional patrol, but the guys never mentioned anything particularly pressing. Anyway, they’ve got the crypt to hole up in if anything gets particularly hairy while we're gone. They won't be incredibly comfortable, but there are enough supplies to last them a week or so in there right now.” 

He nodded. “Very well. I have almost finished, and I shall be well and truly ready by our departure time this evening.” He looked down at the notes he had made on the table. “Now, your dream last night. Am I correct in thinking that you didn't make the scratches yourself while you slept?”

Buffy held her hand next to her face and splayed out her fingers, demonstrating that whomever scratched her had much longer fingers and sharper nails than she did. 

“Fascinating,” he said, leaning closer to examine  them. “ and you had no blood under your nails or anything?” 

Buffy shook her head. “None.”

“And this Drusilla, she sounds a very formidable vampire, based on your notes here,” he said, flicking through Buffy’s notes on the table in front of him.  

“She is, she's Angelus’ childe- he made her completely insane before he turned her. I don't remember which one, but the book that you found her in last time said that the council was under the impression that Dru had dusted in Prague, which is not the case. She is very sick after what the mob did to her. She and her childe are coming to Sunnyd to see if the hellmouth can help her get better. She also has thrall, and visions which usually put her a step or two ahead of us.”

“I shall take some reading material with me then,”  Buffy smiled at him. “I would expect nothing less, watcher mine.”

 

*

 

After having said goodbyes to Xander - who was thrilled with his new job, and with having a legitimate excuse not to be at home at all hours - and Willow - who was nervous but excited about her roll in the upcoming dig, but still said a tearful goodbye anyway - Buffy was ready for road trippy goodness. The Jeep was packed to the brim with yummy snacks, drinks, and a few ham, cheese and salad rolls for the road. Buffy couldn't ever remember Giles having eaten a ham and cheese roll before, but there was a first time for everything. Also music; Buffy had carefully curated a stack of cassette tapes that should keep everyone entertained. She hoped. 

 

*

They had been driving for about 4 hours and it was about time for a driver change. And a toilet break. And some fuel. Joyce had refused to let her drive, so Giles was about to be in the hot seat. Buffy was itching to ask the question she’d been sitting on since she'd come back. 

“Mom?” said Buffy carefully. “What do you think about me studying for my SAT's this term instead of normal school?” 

Joyce let out a sigh; she'd had a feeling something like this was coming. “Do you really think that's a good idea, honey? Don't you want to graduate with Xander and Willow?”

Buffy sighed too. “Well- would  _ you _ really want to go back and do high school over again? As much as I love Xander and Will's, I'd really like to finish - or at least start - my degree before another Apocalypse gets in the way.” 

Joyce was silent for a few moments and then grimaced. “No, you're right,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Having to do high school over again would be absolutely terrible.” She shuddered slightly. “What would you be studying?” 

“Well, I think I want to try and be a school counsellor again. It would give me plenty of reason to be on school grounds whenever I need. I was pretty good at it in the other time. And I enjoyed it too. The school is on top of the Hellmouth, so it would also fall under slayer duties.”

Giles, who was in the passenger seat, nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds like an excellent idea, Buffy.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Geez! You don't have to say it like it’s a surprise.”

“Very well, my dear,” he said with a grin and got out of the car. 

 

*

 

While the Siegel Select hotel wasn't particularly fancy, it did have clean bedding and rooms that didn't smell awful. And a kitchenette big enough for the three of them to plan and eat breakfast. Giles had managed to swing the room next to them, which was nice. 

 

Buffy indulged in a scorching shower and a thorough brushing of her teeth before leaving Joyce to have a nap before dinner. She met Giles next door for their first Vegas scouting mission. 

“All settled in?” she asked after he had ushered her inside, still sporting his socked feet. 

He looked around speculatively. “Well, I must say it is far from the worst accommodations I have ever procured, but it is so, very American,” he grumbled, pointing to the gaudy velvet Elvis painting that hung centre stage in his room. 

Buffy smothered a grin, nodded consolingly, and patted him on the back. “Have you heard from your weapons guy? I'm itching to talk to him about my sword design.”

“Ah, yes I recall you mentioning that briefly. I'm very intrigued by your idea. If it works, we shall consign a few more. They would be incredibly useful.” He bent down to finish tying his shoes. “Yay! Weapons!” she cheered as they left his room. 

Giles let out an audible sigh as he closed the door, but he had a fond smile on his face regardless. 

 

*

 

Buffy was pretty sure this was one of her all-time favourite days since arriving in the past. For once she’d got to nerd out with Giles’ weapons guy while Giles himself looked a little lost, which was nice. Now they were both looking for somewhere to have dinner, generally sightseeing and slowly meandering their way back toward their hotel. 

“Uh, Giles, are you seeing what I'm seeing?” she asked, having stopped in the middle of the pavement. Not far from where she was standing was a whimsical sign advertising a lounge called ‘Underland’, complete with a white rabbit sitting on a hand of playing cards. 

“Yes,” he said, “I do believe we shall have to investigate.”

  
  


*

 

“Buffy,” Giles said uncertainly from beside her as she bounced down the street in excitement afterwards. “Do you think it wise to take your mother to such an establishment? I understand there are precautions in place against violence, but…” 

Buffy looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You think she's going to freak out because there are loose-skinned demons, a few bracken, and one depressed-looking Minotaur? The place was mostly full of humans, or human-looking anyway. She might be a bit weirded out but I think she'll do OK.” 

He nodded and they walked a bit further in silence. “What do you mean, human looking? I didn't notice anyone-” 

Buffy scoffed. “How did you not notice the guy whose hair kept moving around by itself, even though there wasn't a breeze? And the lady with gills?”

“Gills?” he spluttered, taking off his glasses to give them a thorough polish. 

Buffy smiled at him. He'd been too busy looking through the menu, muttering to himself about food items being  _ fascinating  _ and  _ unbelievable.  _ Also trying to determine if there was anything human-friendly being served, which upon investigation there was, happily. 

“Come on, we gotta go explain this to Mom,” she said, tugging on his sleeve. 

He loosed an incredibly put upon sigh. “Buffy-- I simply cannot-- I mean, what kind of establishment has  _ Karaoke _ as a form of entertainment? It's absolutely absurd.”

“Buck up, Giles, I happen to know you have an amazing voice.”

A proud smile started to creep across his face before he shook it away. “Be that as it may, I really don't think-” 

“Look, Giles, my slayer dream seems to think there is something important going on, possibly with that place, possibly not, but we won't know until we actually go further than the hostess' stand. Besides, we have a booking, what kind of people would we be if we just  _ neglected _ to turn up for our reservation?” Buffy ended up on the wrong end of a Giles glare, but he stopped trying to weasel out of going, so she figured it was worth it. 

  
  


*

  
  


Joyce, to Giles’ surprise (and a small amount of disappointment), was absolutely beside herself with excitement. Buffy couldn't tell if it was because it was a demon bar, because there was Karaoke, or because Joyce had helped herself to the mini bar while she and Giles had been gone. Maybe it was all three. Who knew? “Just try not to stare, Mom,” Buffy whispered to Joyce while they were standing in line at the hostess’ station. “It's still rude, even if they do look a bit weird.”

Joyce was immediately contrite. “Oh, my, I didn't even realise.” 

Buffy patted her mother on the shoulder. “You can stare all you want when they're up on stage, OK.” 

Her face lit up. “Ooh, I hadn't thought of that, honey, good idea.” She absently hummed a tune under her breath and stared off into the crowd again. 

“Hi guys,” said the hostess--who had apparently appeared out of thin air.  “Y’all been to Underland before?” she said perkily, finishing with her best Colgate smile. 

“Er- no, I'm afraid we have not. Will that be a problem?” asked Giles.

The hostess shook her head, “Absolutely not, I'll just grab The Host for ya and send him right over.” She grabbed a few menus and waved them toward their seats. 

“That’s completely unnecessary,” said Giles quickly, “I'm sure the Host has much better things to do, we just-” 

Buffy elbowed him and pasted on a smile. “We'd love to see The Host. Don't mind him, he's just unadventurous.” 

The hostess gave her a grin, “After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?” she said slyly as she showed them their seats. 

 

*

 

They had been waiting about fifteen minutes when they were approached by a bright green humanoid-looking demon with tiny red horns and an electric blue suit, set off  _ just _ so with a fluorescent yellow ruffled shirt. He made Buffy’s eyes water a bit just looking at him. 

“Ah!” he said jovially, a broad smile on his face as he rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Hello, my little cream puffs! What can I do for you all tonight?”

Buffy looked at him thoughtfully and tilted her head. “I had a dream, someone told me I should come and find you, or that I would find you. I'm not sure why though. What do you do here, Mr Host?”

An intrigued look crossed his face and he slid into the spare chair at their table. “Please call me Lorne, sweet cheeks. You had a dream about little old me?” He placed his hand on his chest. “Why, I'm flattered,” he said with an easy grin. “And what, may I ask, did your dream say about moi?”

 

“She said-” Buffy looked at Giles who had produced a small notebook and a pen from whatever magical watcher pocket he kept it in. Maybe it was bigger on the inside or something. “Er- that ‘ _ Red horns, green skin does your wise owl have’  _ and that ‘ _ Sunshine, you'll not get the host's attention with that attitude; you'll have to wait to be seated like the rest.’  _ And the rest of the dream was heavy on the Alice in Wonderland references. So, now we're here.”

“Well,” he said, eyebrows up around his hairline where they had ascended to while listening to her speak. “That sounds  _ very _ interesting.” He looked up and smiled at the waiter who had arrived and was placing their drinks around the table. “Alfonso, would you be a dear and grab me one of Marcus’  _ fabulous  _ sea breezes?” The waiter smiled and nodded, striding purposefully toward the bar. Lorne turned back to them. “This calls for some serious contemplation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at them, which had finally come down from their stay high on his forehead. 

“Now, my dears, my role here in this funky little place I like to call home, is, well, I can read auras and  _ sometimes _ I can even get glimpses of potential futures. Powers willing, of course.”

It was Giles’ eyebrow which ascended quickly this time. “The powers, you say?” 

Lorne flashed a smile at him. “You betcha, you little English stud muffin!” 

Giles' ears turned bright red and Buffy sniggered at him from across the table. He shot her an irritated glare and she feigned innocence. 

“What's the catch?” Buffy asked curiously. 

“My, my, aren't you as sharp as a tack, Sunshine? No catch, you just have to sing me a little tune. That's how it all works, you see.”

“Sing?” echoed Joyce and Giles, the latter pulling off his glasses to give them a perfunctory polish. 

“And you definitely aren't going to steal my soul or make me dance myself to death, are you?” Buffy said uncertainly. 

“Of course not, muffin. Now, normally I would absolutely insist you go on stage to sing your little lungs out, but there is just  _ something  _ about you that tells me that’s a bad idea. Care to share, sweetheart?” He crossed his arms on the table and leaned toward her eagerly. 

Buffy glanced at Giles - who looked suspicious - and Joyce - who shrugged. They’d already gotten this far, what was the worst that could happen?

“Hi!” she said perkily (but not too loudly) and stuck out her hand. “I’m Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Nice to meet you, Lorne.”

Lorne, to his credit, only looked surprised for about a second before he slid smoothly back into his easy-going demeanour and shook her hand. “A bonafide celebrity? In our humble bar? Will wonders never cease?”

“My baby’s famous?” said Joyce, sounding bewildered. “When did that happen?” She rounded on Buffy, who was trying to keep a straight face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were famous? Shouldn’t this be something that I know?” 

“I’m not movie star famous mom, no one’s going to be asking for my autograph anytime soon. Besides, I told you about how Dracula came to Sunnydale looking to meet me. Well, eat me, but that's kind of par for the course in my line of work. I’m more like supernatural police than anything else.”

“Oh, pish posh, dear. Not everyone is capable of saving the world, and you, sweet cheeks, have definitely done that! You have my eternal gratitude for saving our beautiful blue planet.” He bowed his head a little, and Buffy waved him away. 

“I had plenty of help,” she said with a self-conscious smile. “Now, is it any particular song, or can I just sing whatever?”

“Whatever you want, Sunshine. Though if it’s something emotional, I’m more likely to get a clear, detailed reading.”

“Emotional?” she said, suddenly nervous. “Right now?”

“No time like the present, sweetheart. I’m ready when you are.”

“Oh. Ok then.”

The sudden longing for him was like a punch to the gut.  _ God, she missed him so much. _

She took a few deep breaths. 

 

_ “I died,  _

_ So many years ago,  _

_ You can make me feel, _

_ Like it isn't so _

_ And why you come to be with me _

_ I think I finally know _

_ Mmm-mmm….” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that!
> 
> I've got about a third of the next chapter done, so hopefully, it shouldn't be too long until I deliver the next one to your eyeballs!
> 
> Please leave a few comments! I am slowly working my way through your comments, and they never fail to inspire me to write a bit more!


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